The One Where They Goof Around, Owe it to Sex, and Go To Atlantic City
by Oldreruns
Summary: Part 2 of an ongoing Mondler canon series: Monica & Chandler try to figure out what they are now & how they feel about each other. Filling in gaps between S5 E2 & S5 E6. Reviews always welcome, I am always looking to improve the experience for the reader. Trying for humor and heart. Thanks for taking the time to read.
1. Cut to the Quickie

**Cut to the Quickie**

Monica was worried that the week-long marathon of the most incredible, satisfying, and knee-knocking sex she has ever had was going to spoil her for the days and weeks ahead. She was certain that reaching those same heights of pleasure that she had achieved during their first week back from London would be nearly impossible now that they were no longer going to have free run of her apartment. She knew it was inevitable; once Rachel returned home from Greece, she and Chandler simply would not have as many opportunities to sleep together. No matter how hard she tried to come up with a plan or a schedule, she just couldn't see a way where they would be able to have nearly as much sex as they had over the last seven days. She was surprised at how depressing that realization was.

Rachel returning meant no more sex on the couch. No more sex in the kitchen. No more sharing long, hot showers. No more steamy, intimate baths. No more wild moans and toe-curling screams in the early morning hours. No more feeding each other breakfast in bed as they recover from a night of passion. No more causing his pupils to dilate and his breath to shorten as he opened the door to her apartment and gasped in surprise as she greeted him wearing one of her more revealing selections from her collection of lingerie. No more spending hours together, undisturbed, as they enjoyed each other in a way that felt new and exciting, yet also comfortable and familiar.

She thought she had prepared herself for what was to come, yet it still proved to be a devastating proposition once Monday morning finally arrived. The notion of Rachel back home with only a thin wall to separate them filled her with fearful trepidation. She wondered if she could really stay quiet enough so that Rachel would never detect what was happening in her bedroom at night. Or how, with everything back to normal, and everyone home, it meant that her apartment would be filled as her friends filed into her place for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. It would make finding time alone with Chandler during the afternoon much more difficult to navigate.

When Monday did finally arrive, she tried to distract herself from dwelling on it by preparing the apartment for the usual suspects that morning. She had Chandler go out and pick up bagels, which was more about removing temptation. She needed him out of her sight so that she would not be enticed to try and squeeze in one last, illicit romp before breakfast. She took time to clean the apartment, hoping to remove any trace that might clue someone in to all the sex that had happened there the previous night. She then made a Greek yogurt cream cheese that she thought would be appropriate for Rachel's homecoming. She sliced up some cucumbers, bell peppers and tomatoes as toppings for the spread and waited patiently for her guests to arrive. She made sure to dress down and not appear like someone who was trying to look sexy. She knew that if she and Chandler acted normal, and didn't do anything stupid, they would be in the clear.

But of course, they did something stupid.

They kissed.

It was wonderful, but stupid.

They closed their eyes and they kissed in front of Phoebe and Rachel.

If they didn't immediately pull back in horror at the realization of the precarious position they put themselves in, she would have been able to take a moment and savor it. She would have let her fingers dance on her lips as he left and smiled at how different that kiss was compared to all the other kisses they had shared since they returned from London. It was not one of their ravenous kisses filled with frenetic sexual energy as they hurried to strip each other's clothes off. It also wasn't the kiss of two people, sweaty and spent, who still needed to taste each other once more before they let their bodies separate. Instead, it was the soft, sweet and tender kiss between two friends who were discovering how much they cared about each other. It was kiss between a couple of lovers who were starting to realize that this thing between them was more than just a torrid affair. It was a kiss that signified how things were changing between them. Changing for the better.

She would have recognized all of this if the apartment were empty today and she could be alone with her thoughts. She would have had time to figure out what that kiss meant, if Rachel and Phoebe had not spent the next hour discussing Chandler's off-putting goodbye. Her mind would have been preoccupied all day with thoughts of that kiss, but instead, her mind was overrun by Rachel, who wanted to talk late into the night about London, Ross, Emily and all of her bad decisions over the past year.

It seemed, rather than allowing that moment between her and Chandler to linger with her all day, she was consumed with frustration at having all her initial fears come true. With everyone back home and things getting back to normal, she had no time. No time to think. No time for herself. No time for Chandler. And as day one came to a close, just like she had assumed, she had no times for sex.

The next day wasn't much better, although initially, it appeared like everything was falling into place. Her plan hatched when everyone met at Central Perk for lunch and they discussed having dinner together. She was able to get out of it by telling everyone she had to work. Chandler played his part perfectly when he complained about having to stay late at the office, even though he was actually going to leave early so the two of them could meet up for a few hours in the late afternoon. Ross was not going to be around tonight, as he was still too preoccupied with his plans to reconcile with Emily to enjoy dinner with his friends. That just left Joey, Phoebe and Rachel; which was perfect. Rachel had hours upon hours of complaining to do and Joey always ordered two dinners on Tuesdays, which is what he thought the saying "two for Tuesday" was all about.

With everyone gone, and seemingly out of their hair for at least a few hours, they would have the apartment to themselves again. They would have more than enough time to make up for Monday. Monica even made sure to wear the same dress she had on that afternoon as she had caught Chandler stealing glances at her during lunch. She took notice at how his gaze would glide up her legs and stop at her hips. She knew by the way Chandler's eyes kept roaming over her body that afternoon, that if he saw her tonight, still in it, it would drive him wild.

And she knew she was right as she could tell how turned on he was the minute he entered her apartment and closed the door behind him. He paused as his eyes bathed her with ravenous lust. His breath hitched and he started to flash her that same sexy smile she rediscovered in London. A smile she used to know he had, but let it hide in the haze of the fog that was their friendship. Now that she could see it clearly once again, she had to have him.

She practically raced across the room to meet his lips. She was much too overcome with anticipation to be angry about him being late. And she desperately wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to feel something other than passion, just so she could trick herself into believing that she had not yet surrendered all of her control to this fire that was growing between them. Yet, even though he left her waiting there wondering where he was, without even a phone call, she could not be annoyed. Instead, she trembled with nervous, wanting impatience for his arrival. For his touch.

How could she be mad when all she wanted was for him to burst through that door, grab her, and kiss her roughly. All she could imagine was him, pushing her down on the couch, because the bedroom would be much too far for them to travel before they gave into their carnal impulses. She knew once he arrived, they would never reach that bedroom door before they combusted under the heat of their passion.

Then, as if simply to punish her for her foresight into the difficulties she and Chandler would face in hiding this part of themselves from their friends, the door swung open wide. Before she knew what was happening, Chandler was making his way out of the apartment, one pair of lips at a time.

By the time he returned later that evening, everyone had made themselves comfortable, entrenching themselves in the apartment and making the prospects of a night of passion bleak. She felt like some modern-day Tantalus; there he would be, within reach for the rest of the night, yet she could not snatch him up and she was unable to quench her primal hunger.

The rest of the week had proven to be equally disastrous. Chandler worked late, Rachel had her date, Ross had his box of rose petals, Phoebe had her pregnancy mood swings, Monica actually had to do laundry. It seemed., that no matter how well she tried to plan time for them, nothing was going to work out. They simply could not get a minute alone.

Monica got so desperate, that she found herself dressing up even though all they were doing was sitting around the coffee house. But she knew he would be there next to her. She knew that if she wore just the right top, and pulled her hair up off of her shoulders, exposing her neck to him, he would be overcome with his own desire for her. It was a dangerous game she played as they hoped and prayed for just one night this week without the drama that swirled around their friends to keep them from each other. She was beginning to think they were doomed and this secret affair would either have to end, or become public much quicker that they would ever have wanted.

Then, like an epiphany, everything came into focus for her. It happened when everyone rushed downstairs to get Phoebe to the hospital, leaving her and Chandler behind in the hallway outside her door. As they crashed their lips against each other, her desire for him hit a crescendo. It didn't matter what joke he made or how annoyed she could be at his clueless behavior, she had to have him. Right then and there.

Before she knew it, she was dragging him back into her apartment. He protested slightly, telling her that the others would be suspicious if they were gone too long, but she didn't care. She needed him. Furthermore, she was ready for him in a way she had not foreseen. Before she could even explain to him what she wanted, her pants were already off and she was enticing him to join her on the kitchen table.

It was so strange to her because Monica normally did not like quickies. The had an air of haphazard disorder about them. Both people fumbling to get just undressed enough to have access to each other as they allow themselves a small measure of pleasure. Yet, somehow, this was different. Maybe it was having to go almost a week without being able to feel Chandler inside her, maybe it was because, in this moment, he seemed to relinquish complete control to her, or maybe it was just that he was that damn good. But just like they reinvented their relationship after that night in London, it seemed, the two of them had also reinvented sex.

And that was when she realized what this entire week of anticipation of this moment was. They were practicing some new kind of foreplay where the only contact they could have with each other were incidental, secret touches. His hand brushing against her as he stretched his arm behind her on the couch. Her palm on his knee as she gently patted him when he made a joke or a comment. Stolen glances. Knowing smiles. Lingering touches. Little things to heighten the suspense and drive them crazy with desire.

This was what they had to be now. They had to tease each other. They had to be sneaky. They had to steal these tiny moments together when no one else was around. They had to find small, private spaces to occupy. Just the thought of it made everything better. Made her weak with need. She quickly spun around and presented herself to him and it felt just as amazing at it had before. They no longer needed hours of sex to reach the same levels of ecstasy that they had reached in London, or here in her apartment last week. Just being around each other, knowing what they were doing behind everyone else's back, was arousing enough. It would make these quick, moments of savage passion punctuate their sexual chemistry in a way that made everything much more potent.

As she felt herself letting loose with her own grunts and moans, she knew they had finally found their rhythm. Not only in this moment of passion on her kitchen table, but for how their secret relationship would be going forward. And she knew, it was going to be amazing.

* * *

A/N _ Okay, so now I am really messing things up.

After re-working TOW The Week After London, I realized, that I did not really do enough in this story to flesh out those first few weeks of their relationship before Joey figures out what is going on. Being only my second story, I think I was afraid to write too much because I didn't think I really had a good feel for all the characters and looking back, I don't think I really caught on until "Deskcapades".

So, in addition to cleaning up the existing chapters in this story, I am going to add some new chapters as well. TOW All the Kissing is a perfect place to start since it is where I ended the last story and since it obviously takes place over several days. It gives me an opportunity to write two chapters before we even get to the hospital; this one from Monica's POV and the next one from Chandler's (which will pretty much take place over the same couple of days that this chapter does).

Basically, I am going to build up to "Hospital Protocol" with a few chapters giving some more depth and exploring some other character building moments. Hopefully this doesn't get too confusing, and if you read as I update, it'll all make sense.


	2. Falling Fast

**Falling Fast**

Chandler falls for women too fast and too hard. He has always known this, even though he rarely admits it himself. It never fails, in every relationship, he starts out like a white-hot ball of emotion, becomes too intense, and then burns out. Like his own version of Icarus, he flies to close to the object of his desire and everything falls apart. He blurts out those three little words way to soon, and then watches as the woman he said them to recoils from him, and then everything he thought was there between them turns to dust.

If he had the ability to do an honest self-evaluation, he would realize that his fear of rejection and his history of terrible break-ups, had sent him on a self-destructive path for most of his life. He would reject women for the slightest perceived imperfection just so that he would not have to experience their repudiation of his advances. Have it all end before it even began; spare himself from reliving the pain of a lesson he learned years ago as a child when his father had abandoned him. He was unwanted.

Yet, even at his most vigilant to keep his heart under lock and key, he still had moments where he jumped in feet first with reckless abandon. It happened with Janice when she came back into his life. He fell in love with her while chatting with her online long before he even saw her face or knew who she was. He threw caution to the wind and dove headfirst into a relationship with her and he was ready to commit. He was still nervous and awkward and everything that he hated about himself; but he was in love. He thought she was too. When she decided to leave him and try to save her marriage, he folded up like a lawn chair. He was certain that he gave her the best version of himself, and it wasn't enough. He was never enough.

That pain was nothing compared to Kathy. At least with Janice, he could fall back on all those grating idiosyncrasies of hers to remind him of why he couldn't stand her in the first place. But Kathy was perfect. She was like the kind of girl that only a roomful of lonely men could dream up. She was funny, sexy, and smart. She liked old movies and sports. She could drink beer with the guys during the day and dress up for an evening out on the town. All it took was one night watching an Ernie Kovacs special together and he was head over heels. She was all he could think about. She possessed his mind and his soul until she finally possessed his body too. And he was happy; truly happy. Until he did what he always does, and he squeezed too tightly and let it all slip out of his hands. If he folded after Janice, then he completely crumbled after Kathy. He swore he would never let himself be that vulnerable again.

And yet, here he was, riding in the back of a cab on the way to the hospital, and he could feel himself becoming smitten all over again. All the signs were there. He could sense the tingling in his stomach, the goosebumps on his arms and the flush of color on his skin. He turned to look over at Monica and she smiled at him and her eyes sparkled and her nose crinkled and that was it. He might as well have surrendered to her on the spot. She had him. It hadn't even been two full weeks since they fell into bed together, and he could feel himself falling into this. He thought he could keep his cool and be casual about it. That it was no big deal. Friends hook up all the time. But he knew that was a lie. He knew this was different the moment he stood outside her door the day they returned from London. This wasn't some one-night fling. He could feel himself already becoming attached to her. He could already feel himself needing to be with her.

He watched her as she looked out the window, a smile still plastered on her face. It wasn't any different than any other smile she had flashed him over the years, but now, after London, that smile killed him. It made his heart pound and his knees wobbly. He needed that smile. His survival depended on it. It was like oxygen to him now.

He wanted to believe it was just an irrational reaction he was having thanks to all the sex; and there has been a lot of sex. More sex than he could ever remember having before. The kind of wild sex that had her dragging him into her apartment for a quickie on the kitchen table less than a half-hour ago. He had never had it like this. The sense of urgency and total desire. The hunger that needed to be satiated immediately. Yes. The sex was amazing, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

Everything about her made him feel better. The way she looked at him, like being with him was the only thing happening in her world. How her hands felt on his arm when they were just sitting around the coffee house. How her voice soothed him late at night when she spoke to him softly. How her lips tasted. The way her crystal blue eyes shined like diamonds. The way her face crinkled up when she smiled. How she walked towards him with infectious confidence and conviction, making him feel like he was a different man, capable of different things. How her hair bounced around her shoulders when she would laugh at one of his jokes. Maybe all of this was always there, and he was simply too blind to see it. But he sees it now, and it has him in a freefall.

He couldn't compare this to the other women he has known. This was different. He knew that the moment she crashed her lips on his in his hotel room. Even though he had told himself that it was different each time he had felt like this about the dozen or so other women he either dated or had some unrequited crush on; this was really different. This was Monica. A woman who knew every dirty detail about who he was. And there she sat, after initiating a quick sexual encounter that he still feels like he is recovering from, and she was smiling at him. It was as if she were the one who was giddy at what was happening between them when anyone who had a pair of eyes could see that he was the lucky one. That's why, in this moment, with her hand reaching out for his as they continue driving towards the hospital, he simply can't imagine being with any other woman. It's her. She's it for him. He's already slipping down that dangerous slope.

All week, all he could think about was being with her, and it wasn't always about sex. Like the other night, when everyone was at her apartment, ruining their plans to be alone, he was content just to sit there next to her. She would let loose with a gentle sigh and she stretched her legs out over his. He placed his hand on her knee and gently rubbed the inside of her leg with his thumb. And even though everyone else was there, time stood still, and he felt as if they were the only two people in the room.

He let his fingers intertwine with hers as they sat in the back of the cab and he gave her a smile. Her eyes lit up and she looked as if she were about to giggle or blush and he felt this enveloping warmth flow through his body from deep in his chest and couldn't understand how this was happening. How despite all his efforts, he was doing it all over again.

He might not be feeling this trepidation if he knew what she was thinking behind those gorgeous eyes. Is there something going on in there that is more than just someone having a good time? It has to be; this is Monica. Everything is calculated with her, especially when it comes to stuff like this. He knew her attempt at being friends with benefits with Richard soured her on the idea that casual sex between friends could work and he can't even remember the last time she had a one-night stand.

What was this? What was he supposed to say? How is he supposed to react when she squeezes his hand and pulls it into her lap so she can hold it tightly in her own. How was he supposed to let her know that just her fingers running up and down his sent him to the moon. This can't just be about amazing sex. What is he supposed to do?

He's so bad at this part. The part where you're supposed to anticipate what the other person is thinking and feeling. It filled him with anxiety during those first few weeks with Janice and made him act like an idiot. It blinded him with Kathy and he almost lost one of his best friends because of it. Now, here was his other best friend, his first real best friend, sitting beside him and grinning ear-to-ear as she held his hand and all he could think is that he cannot let himself do what he always does and squeeze her too tightly and risk losing her. He can't lose her as a lover. He can't lose her as a friend.

But he can't stop himself from feeling the way he does. He can't stop himself from falling like he does. He knows that the only way for him to navigate these treacherous waters is to act normal, be casual, be nonchalant. Talk a lot, make jokes, do whatever he has to do to distract himself from everything he is thinking about because Chandler knows, that overthinking his relationships with women has been his downfall. He can't let that happen here. This isn't Janice who he could convince himself he loved out of desperation. This isn't Kathy who he got over by dismissing his feelings as mere infatuation. This is Monica. Their history could never be rewritten. She could never be forgotten. She's been a part of everything good that has ever happened to him for most of his adult life. She wasn't just some girl. And over these last two weeks, she was everything.

If only he knew what she was thinking. Then maybe, everything would be okay.

"I like your hands. They're soft and pretty."

Chandler briefly made eye contact with the cab driver and saw him smirk as he overheard Monica's emasculating compliment.

"What do you mean? My hands aren't soft. I have manly hands!"

"No you don't. Your hands don't have any rough spots or dry patches. My hands have so many little imperfections from working in a kitchen. You have hands that feel brand new. I love how they feel on my skin."

Chandler visibly gulped and then allowed a roguish smile to form on his lips. "Well, we could probably turn around and go back home if you want to feel them on you again. Hell, I could do that right now."

"No. Maybe after Phoebe has the babies. We're late enough as it is."

"What? With everything going on? No one will even notice."

"I would notice."

"Of course you'd notice. You're Monica."

Monica shot him a playfully stern look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Chandler stammered a bit, but then regrouped and smiled at her. "Uh, just that you're one of a kind?"

"Aww, that's sweet. I know you're just trying to save your own skin, but I don't care. I'll take it." Monica leaned up against him and placed her hand on his thigh. "You know, that was really incredible back there. I think my legs are still shaking."

"What? The sex on the table or me helping you clean up the floor after Phoebe's water broke."

"I do find a man with a mop very sexy."

"You are a very strange woman."

Monica playfully pinched Chandler on his side. "Hey. Don't bruise the merchandise."

"Maybe we can leave before everyone else does and try to get another one in before they get back."

Chandler allowed a salacious smile to spread across his lips. "Ooo. Maybe you can find one of those sexy nurse outfits and bring one home."

The cab slowed down and Monica looked out the window to gesture at the hospital. "I don't think they have those in there."

Chandler frowned as he bobbed his head side-to-side. "Well, maybe we can continue what we started when we get back."

"I wouldn't say no to waxing the floor." Monica laughed and bumped her shoulder into Chandler to punctuate her joke.

"I was thinking more along the lines of us having sex on the table at my place."

Monica wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "You don't have a table."

"Yeah I do."

"Are you talking about the foosball table?"

"Yeah."

"Oh no. All those little wooden men poking me in the back, no. You get a proper table, and I'll do it on that."

"You're no fun."

Monica gestured back down the street behind the cab. "That wasn't fun back there?"

Chandler shrugged his shoulders and tried to suppress a smile. "It was okay."

"Well, what about this?"

Monica leaned over Chandler and pressed her body against him as she crashed her lips onto his. One of her hands ran down his thigh as she dug her fingers into him. With her other hand, she traced circles through his hair and then softly brought it down to his ear. She let her fingers play about his earlobe as she swung one of her legs over his lap and began to grind her body against his. She allowed her tongue to explore his mouth and she moaned quietly as they kissed. She pulled back and took a deep, heavy breath, allowing her hungry eyes to search his, rendering him speechless. She slowly pulled herself up and off of him and then slid over to her side of the cab.

"I'll meet you outside."

Chandler watched her as she exited the taxi and then melted back into his seat. He was completely aroused. His tried to stuff his shirt back into his pants and mat down his disheveled hair. He was breathing hard and had half a mind to grab her, drag her back into the cab, and go back home.

"Hey, pretty hands. That'll be 15.50."

Chandler looked up and saw the cab driver glance over his shoulder at him with a smirk. He shook his head as he tried to regain his focus. He reached into his pocket and handed the driver a crumpled twenty before stepping outside. He took a deep breath and looked over to see Monica doing her best to stifle a laugh at the mess she had left him in. She gave him one more smile before looking down and turning towards the entrance of the hospital.

"Come on. We're really late."

He followed her inside, watching her move with each hurried step, completely hypnotized by her. He knew it was too soon to have it this bad, but in this moment, he didn't care.


	3. Too Good To Be True

**Too Good To Be True**

Joey walked over and handed Monica a paper cup that was half-filled with piping hot coffee. She showed her appreciation with a smile and a nod, but barely looked at him as her attention was fixated on Chandler, who was using the phone on the other side of the room.

Joey leered around the waiting area, as if sizing up every woman he could find in a three foot radius. He nodded, almost to himself, and then turned to Monica as he sat down. "The vending machine didn't have any sugar or cream." He then darted his eyes around the empty chairs next to her. "Where's Chandler?"

Monica gestured with her head towards Chandler, who was standing on the opposite side of the nurse's station. "He's calling the hotel in A.C. to cancel our reservations."

Joey nodded and then let his eyes start wandering around the room again.

Monica sat back a little and smiled proudly. "Isn't that efficient?"

Joey shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno."

Monica rolled her eyes at first, but then flashed Joey a smile before she returned her attention to Chandler.

As she waited for her coffee to cool, she studied Chandler's posture and thought about how he appeared to stand differently. There was this casual ease about him. A quiet confidence that struck her. She was already impressed with him when he remembered the hotel rooms they had booked for their group trip to Atlantic City, but watching him in action cancelling the reservations made him look more mature than he usually would. She tried to think if she ever saw him do something like this before, if she had ever seen him be an adult.

She found it so odd that she did not think about the rooms before he did. It seemed like something that she would have already taken care of. Lately though, a lot of things have been slipping by the wayside as all her energy has been focused on this thing growing between her and Chandler. Her ability to care about anything outside of that appeared to have waned. Sure, she tried to help Rachel get over Ross, but she knew her heart wasn't in it. Illustrated by how she was not nearly as forceful with Rachel as she could have been when she wanted to tell Ross she was still in love with him. By the time she got up to leave them alone in the coffee house, she was already thinking about telling Chandler they should get a third, secret room for themselves. She was even less involved with Ross and Emily. They had become such an afterthought to her, that she could only think of the potpourri she was going to be able to make from the discarded roses, and that was only so she could put some of it in Chandler's bedroom.

She noticed the hint of impatience he had on his face, as he was no doubt waiting on hold, and for the first time in a long time, she suddenly saw him very differently. That wasn't entirely true. She had been thinking about him differently ever since London. That wonderful, amazing night in London where he showed her a side of himself that she had no idea existed. The side of him that made her crave his touch in a way she had never imagined possible. The side of him that made her quiver with desire and lust. She felt almost embarrassed by how quickly she had become concupiscence during their time together.

Before they started sleeping together, Monica rarely thought about Chandler sexually. When she had, she assumed that he would be a competent, but nervous lover. She knew it wasn't fair to think of him that way, but in her defense, he was a competent, nervous person. Now that she has seen this other side of him, it opened her eyes to the kind of man he truly was. A man with conviction in his eyes and an almost cocksure, sexy smile when he was about to enter her. There was this self-awareness he had in everything he did to her. Every touch seemed purposeful and potent. He straddled the line between tenderness and dominance that was both endearing and intoxicating. There was something about sex with Chandler that seemed to bring out this need in her to be fulfilled in every way, and he has proven to be more than up to the task.

He was also fun. Which she had always known, but this was different. Before London, fun with Chandler was about playfully teasing each other, or ganging up on one of their friends. It was making jokes and watching bad TV. Fun with him now meant being totally comfortable in her own skin while being penetrated by a skillful lover. She felt fearless in who she was as a person when they were together. It unlocked an entirely new way of enjoying sex, unlike anything she had experienced with any other man. It was as if all the things about herself that she tried to hide from every man she had ever been with, Chandler already knew. Not only did he know, but he expected to see them. He would have been disappointed if she held them back. She didn't need to ease him into her strange little world. He's been living there for years. To have all her imperfections already out on display and have him never flinch, because he already accepted them as part of her, was liberating. All the tension she would normally feel in those first few weeks of intimacy were gone, and she could just be herself and enjoy herself, and in turn, enjoy him. No longer getting stuck in her head, worrying that she was being too much too fast, made the sex better. And knowing she could never be too much for Chandler, made this the best sex she had ever had.

And now, just when she thought that there couldn't possibly be another layer that would make her discover a new way to see him, he surprised her again. When he pulled that piece of paper out of his wallet that had the hotel confirmation numbers on it and he told her he was going to cancel their reservations, she almost jumped him right there and took him on the floor of the waiting room. She had always assumed that Chandler was lazy. That he was inefficient. That he was unorganized. Sure, for a man, he was okay, but for Monica, he was an amateur. A blind man stumbling in the dark. The idea that he had kept all the hotel information on one folded up piece of paper, carried it around with him, and then had the wherewithal to call and cancel the rooms once Phoebe went into labor may have been the sexiest thing she had ever seen him do.

She wondered if she had missed seeing all of this over the years that they had been friends and neighbors. Could she have been that blind? Not only was he great in bed, not only was he handsome and sexy, not only did he make her feel good about who she was, not only was he fun, but he was efficient and organized too? It was almost too good to be true.

* * *

Monica stormed off and grumbled to herself. She should have known this was too good to be true.

"_Goofing around. Chandler is an idiot."_

Monica turned the corner and found a bathroom to hide out in for a moment. She walked over to the sink and instinctively washed her hands and then looked up at herself in the mirror.

"_Goofing around. This is so typical, and it's typical Chandler. Ooo. I just want to squeeze his head!"_

She took a paper towel, dried her hands and then squeezed it in her fist. She tore at it and threw it roughly into the trash. She exhaled loudly and then leaned up on the sink as she took a few more deep breaths.

"_He wants to goof around? I'll goof around all right. I'll goof around like no one has ever goofed around before! I'll be the goof queen!"_

She gave herself a quizzical look as she realized she did not know what that even meant. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She was stunned and angry and she needed to lash out, which would be very hard to do in a hospital. She needed to yell at someone. For a moment, she thought to see if that ridiculous doctor was still around, and she could yell at him to shut up about Fonzie in hopes that would make her feel better. But she knew it wouldn't. Then she thought about giving the man who put her in this mood a piece of her mind.

"_Chandler. I should go back out there right now and tear him a new one."_

She looked at her face one more time as her lips wrinkled into a dejected frown. She didn't want to fight with Chandler. She didn't want him to be a jerk. She didn't want to go out with some nurse, and she definitely did not want Chandler to think she was the kind of girl who goofed around with guys.

She was certain that whatever she was feeling about what was happening between them, he was feeling it too. That this was more than a fling. That there was more going on between them than just sex. That he wasn't like so many other men she had known who were constantly on a different page than she was. He was supposed to know her better than that, and if he didn't, then she decided, he didn't deserve her.

"_If he's too stupid to realize how good this has been, then he can go screw himself. I'll show him, I'll go out with that nurse. I'll make sure it's the best date in the history of dates and I'll throw it right in his face!"_

She gave herself one more, determined look. She thought about how infuriating Chandler could be. How immature and cruel and stupid he was. She shook her head and silently admonished herself. She should have known that this was too good to be true.

* * *

Monica leaned over and gave Chandler a kiss that caught the corner of his mouth. She hopped off the gurney and walked away (not before making sure that he didn't act a fool behind her back with his ridiculous victory dance) and she could not help but smile. Just when she thought she knew every facet of this man, he surprised her once again with something new.

He came after her.

It wasn't dramatic, like in some movie where he ran through crowded streets and pushed people away from him as he sought her out. There wasn't some storm he had to brave so he could reach her before she wed another man. He didn't have to jump a turnstile, or buy a plane ticket so he could stop her at the terminal before she boarded her flight. He didn't have to storm the gates of some castle. His journey was less than a few dozen feet. His voice barely loud enough to be heard by anyone other than her. His tone was tender. He was contrite. He was vulnerable. He was there for her.

He didn't promise her anything. He didn't make some grand gesture. He didn't claim feelings that neither of them were ready to think about. He didn't sweep her up in his arms and try to kiss her. He did not fundamentally change who he was. He simply told her the truth. They were amazing in bed. They were friends who cared a lot about each other. They wanted to spend more time together. That was enough for her.

There wasn't some new, fantasy version of him that had been unlocked by two weeks of great sex. He was still stupid, and immature, and sarcastic, and infuriating, but he was also smart and handsome, and sexy, and sweet, and considerate and confident and reliable. He was all of these things. He was Chandler. He didn't need to be anyone else. She liked Chandler. Just like he liked her, flaws and all.

This wasn't too good to be true. Nothing ever was. Truth be told, she didn't need that anymore. She didn't need some schoolgirl invention of what a man should be. She needed the real thing. She needed this real thing right here that was growing between them, and she needed to know that he needed it to. And now, thanks to him and his ridiculously sweet attempt to rehabilitate the term "goofing around", she does.


	4. Hospital Protocol

**Hospital Protocol**

Chandler can not believe how lucky he is. As he and Monica take a moment to warmly look into each other's eyes and share a smile, all he can do is thank whatever god put those words in his head that kept her from ending this thing between them. There was a sense of poetic justice, it was his big mouth that got him in trouble in the first place, so it should also be the thing that bails him out. He looks at her and is practically blinded from the happiness that is beaming from her. She gives him a few pats on his knee, slides off the hospital gurney, turns, and starts to walk down the hallway. He can't help but leap up off the gurney and bounce on the balls of his feet.

"Don't do the dance."

"Right!"

He stops moving and simply enjoys the pleasure of watching her disappear down through the hospital corridors. Once he can confirm she is out of sight, he balls up his fists and shakes them in the air triumphantly. He even let loose with a "woohoo" in celebration. He closes his eyes and starts to pump his fists, spinning around in a circle. He knows that he is acting like a child, but he doesn't care.

When he finally opens his eyes again, he finds himself face-to-face with one of the hospital nurses. She does not look amused as she glares at him with a disapproving look.

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I just, uh really love," he pauses, looks around nervously, and then snatches a box of gauze off of the shelves behind the gurney where he and Monica had just been sitting. "This gauze. It's the best. I'm so glad you guys have it!"

His nervous features begin to relax and his eyes widen excitedly, "Wait a minute, you don't know who I am. Why am I lying to you? I don't care about this stupid gauze! Actually, I'm pretty sure that this beautiful, amazing, sexy woman just agreed to be exclusive with me! And we're having sex! A lot of sex! A lot of really great sex! And she's really hot and she does stuff with me! In bed! And its good!" Chandler suddenly realizes exactly what he is saying and his expression goes quiet and thoughtful.

The nurse, rolls her eyes and shakes her head. She has a weary expression on her face and she looks down her nose at Chandler.

"Congratulations. I'm really happy for you. Please don't touch the hospital supplies."

Chandler looks down at the box of gauze that he is still holding in his hands. "Right." He hands it back to her.

The nurse exaggerates an exhausted sigh and walks away.

Chandler starts to bounce up and down again, looks both ways down the hall, confused with what exactly to do next, and walks in the opposite direction hoping to avoid the nurse he just met. After a few minutes wandering around the labyrinth of corridors he finally makes his way back to the waiting room near the maternity ward. He looks around the rows of chairs and sees Ross, sitting down, alone, with a forlorn look on his face.

"Hey!" Chandler calls out, still trying to stifle his giddiness. "Where is everyone?"

"Oh, hey." Ross replies, sounding depressed, not even looking up to meet Chandler's gaze. "Uh, well, Joey is still in recovery, Rachel went off to the cafeteria and, well, I don't know where Monica is. They say it may be about a half-hour before we can go in to see Phoebe and the babies. Where have you been?" Ross finally looks up. Chandler is a bundle of nerves and adrenalin. He can't seem to stand still. Rocking from one foot to the other. "Dude, what is wrong with you?"

Chandler looks back at Ross and tries to quiet his emotions. "Oh, yeah. Uh, well, I have to go to the bathroom."

Ross looks back at him with exasperated eyes. "Are you asking my permission?"

"Nooooo!" Chandler exaggerates sarcastically. "I just wanted to check on you first. Now that I did, I'll go do my business."

"Do your business?" Ross scrunches his brow, looking as if Chandler's words emitted a foul odor.

Chandler just huffs and storms off. He walks for a few minutes, not exactly sure where he is going, just knowing he needs to get away from everyone until he can relax.

_"Calm down Chan. __You are way too amped up about this." _

Chandler stops walking and finds himself standing in a four-way corridor. He starts to bounce a bit between each entrance way, almost hoping his momentum will fling him down one of them so he doesn't have to make a decision.

Chandler looks down the hallway that he is sure Phoebe's room is in. "Well, normally when something like this happens, I'd talk to Joey, or Monica, but I can't talk to them." He turns his body around haphazardly to look back at the hallway where Ross had been sitting. "And I can't talk to Ross because he'd probably kill me." He turns around again to the corridor that leads to the exit. "What I really need is to find a pack of cigarettes!"

Chandler rubs his chin as he tries to make a decision as to where he should go, when he hears a somewhat familiar, exasperated sigh come from behind him. He turns around to see the nurse from earlier, sitting at the desk, staring at him.

"Are you going to be doing this all day? We check patients in over here and I think they have enough problems without having to deal with you."

"Well," Chandler offers in a sarcastic tone. "I don't know yet, normally when I get this far with a girl I can talk to my friends and getting their input kind of helps and keeps me rational, but, since I can't do that, I think I'll just do this," Chandler starts to bounce around and flail his arms in an exaggerated motion. "until I either pass out or a carton of cigarettes miraculously falls from the sky."

The nurse looks at him quietly. She looks at her watch. Looks back at him, back at her watch, and sighs.

"Well, I can't in good conscience let you smoke, that's kind of my job, and although I imagine letting you pass out would be much easier for me," she looks at her watch once more and her entire body seems to deflate. "I've got about fifteen minutes. Let's go kid."

She gets up from behind the desk, pulls on a white cardigan that she slips off the back of her chair and starts to walk down the far corridor towards the exit. Chandler looks at her with confusion wrinkling his brow. He hesitates and shakes his head.

"I said c'mon kid! I don't have all day!"

Chandler tilts his head, nods slightly and starts to follow the nurse. They make their way quietly down a series of hallways, through several waiting areas, until they come to a quiet, darkened room.

"Look, if this is about the gauze, I'll pay for it. You don't need to take me to your nurse interrogation room."

The nurse shoots Chandler a look that causes him to stop talking. She flips on the light and directs Chandler to sit down. She pulls up a chair and looks at her watch one more time. "Okay kid, go. Get it off your chest. Then you'll feel better and you'll stop doing this." She stretches her arms out and begins to flail them pathetically.

"I don't look like that."

"No. You look even stupider. So, what is the matter? Spill."

Chandler, still very confused, takes a moment to figure out what he is supposed to say. "Well, see my name is Chandler. And you are?"

The nurse cuts him off. "No, we're not doing that. If I am lucky, we will never see each other again. Just tell me what your problem is. It'll make you feel better. You either do that and get it all out there so it isn't rattling around up in your head, or I give you a valium."

Chandler scans the room for a moment to collect his thoughts. His face relaxes and he nods. "Well, I don't really have a problem. You see, you know when I told you about all the sex I was having?" The nurse looks at him impatiently and raises an eyebrow. "You were there, you know what I said. We don't have to go over that again. Anyway, you see, this girl, she isn't just any girl. She's one of my best friends. In fact, she is probably is the best friend."

The nurse's face softens to one of concern. "Well, obviously you think there's a problem. You wouldn't be this bundle of nerves right now if everything was great." she pulls back from him and narrows her eyes. "unless you're one of those pathetic guys who never had sex before."

"I've had sex!" Chandler points demonstratively at himself and scoff. "But I guess, if you really knew me, you'd know this is how I normally act when I am with a woman, but this time, yeah, it's different." Chandler's face becomes still as he looks down at his feet.

The nurse leans in and places a reassuring hand on his knee. "So, there it is. This girl is different?"

"Yeah, she's different." Chandler smiles reflectively for a moment. "I screw up with women all the time, at an Olympic level. And if that happens here, well, I don't know what I would do then. She's really important to me. She's important to everybody. What if I do something stupid and she hates me and then our entire friendship goes up in flames? We're close, all of us, and me screwing up, something like that, it would wreck everyone. So, yeah, she is different. Even before we did anything like what we are doing now, she always was, well, she still is, out of all the women I've ever known, heck, out of all the people I know, she's the best one."

Chandler drops his head wearily, worried that if he looks up, his eyes would betray a sadness that he normally holds deep inside himself, that he has been trying to bury away for almost his entire life.

The nurse pauses, takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. "Well then, don't screw it up."

Chandler picks his head up and gives a half smile.

"Look, kid. Everybody screws up. I've been married for 17 years and I still screw up. My husband still screws up. He actually screws up a lot. He's probably screwing something up right now." She looks off to the side, then returns her gaze back to Chandler. "There's no money back guarantee on future happiness. You just have to make sure that when you do screw up, you salvage whatever you can. If your friendship with this girl is that important to you, then you do whatever it is you have to do to make sure you hold onto that. Listening to you talk about it, I can tell, when push comes to shove, you'll do the right thing."

Chandler's face becomes serious. His eyes go weak and vulnerable. "I don't know if it is that easy, At some point she is going to find out that she can do better."

The nurse, still holding Chandler's hand, stands up and motions for him to do the same. "Well then kid, I guess you'll just have to be better." She smiles at him and Chandler seems to relax for a moment. "Now, why don't we get you back to your friends."

Chandler and the nurse make their way back to Phoebe's recovery room, she opens the door and leads Chandler inside. Once there, Monica looks up at him, holding one of the babies, smiling deliriously. He makes his way over, places one of his arms around her back and starts to stroke the babies head gently.

Monica looks as if she is about to melt as she looks lovingly at the bundle in her arms. "Look at this little angel Chandler."

Chandler can't help but let loose with a calm, contented smile as he joins her in admiring one of the triplets.

The nurse steps back out of the room and closes the door and closes the door behind her. She starts to walk back to the main desk reflecting on the conversation she just had, when another hospital worker joins her.

"Hey, Sheila, where have you been."

Sheila hesitates for a moment and looks back at her co-worker. "oh, just helping out a friend."


	5. The Rules of Engagement

**The Rules of Engagement**

Earlier in the afternoon, Monica hatched a plan for Chandler to come over to her apartment for some "goofing around". He did not need much convincing, and jumped at the opportunity for an overnight rendezvous when she called him at his office and brought it up. Monica had it all worked out. She usually got back from the restaurant after midnight when she worked a dinner shift. Once she got home, she would move around the apartment for a little while to unwind from the long day. Sometimes she would simply watch a little television or do a light clean up in the kitchen. She knew that if Chandler came over, and Rachel had overheard them, she probably would not suspect that anything was out of the ordinary and just assume it was Monica doing some last minute chores before bed. Chandler poked his head in the door around 1am, and the two of them then spent the rest of the night in her bedroom, doing their best to keep quiet while they had sex. They would take breaks and sometimes even fall asleep for a few minutes, but they always tried to enjoy one last, tender round of lovemaking before the sun came up.

Monica and Chandler relished this time alone, early in the morning, long before anyone else would be awake. They would lie next to each other (sometimes on top of each other), talking and laughing and trying to squeeze every last precious second from the clock in an attempt to maximize their time together. In these early morning hours, they could be themselves without pretense, with no filter on their quirks, no interruptions from their friends forcing them to act as if this wonderful magic between them did not exist. It was this little, private world that only the two of them inhabited throughout the night. A safe place to unapologetically be themselves with each other. A place where they found someone who actually liked them for who they were, and not who they pretended to be. It was almost as rewarding as the amazing sex they had been having. Almost.

Chandler knew he was going to have to leave soon and sneak back to his apartment. It was a strange time of the night for him. He hated to leave and would become anxious at the prospect of trying to escape undetected, but he was also completely mollified and at peace, lying in Monica's bed, side to side with this beautiful woman who enjoyed getting naked with him. He did not want to let that go even as the sun started to poke it's rays of light into the room. He never liked to be awake at this hour. He is not someone who got up early during the week and saw the sunrise. Instead, he would wring every last drop of sleep out of the morning. Now that he has been with Monica, that has all changed. He woke up giddy, no matter what hour it was, knowing that in a few short moments he would soon be rolling around in bed with her. Suddenly, it seemed that being awake with her, and watching the sun bathe her face with dawn's light, was the perfect way to start his day.

These late nights and early mornings should exhaust him, yet, Monica filled him with energy, and he never waned during these clandestine meetings. Although, by late afternoon, sitting in his office, a wave of exhaustion would wash over him, and he found himself sneaking naps at his desk behind closed doors. He was surprised that he still had an office to go to. Ever since they returned from London, he has called in sick, left work early, and shown up late. As far as Chandler was concerned, any inconvenience on his job due to his time with Monica was a non-issue. He simply did not care if he were fired. Oddly enough, over these last few weeks, he started to get more positive recognition from the senior staff. He wondered if his job was much easier than he had thought, or if they thought that perhaps, he was dying.

Monica's work schedule was more fluid that Chandler's, and the late nights had not bothered her too much since she has always survived on very little sleep. four or five hours a night was already pretty common for her. She did, from time-to-time take a quick nap on the couch in the afternoon before she had to go to the restaurant. But most days, Monica's go-to method for getting rejuvenated has always been her baths. A good soak with the right oils and perfect combination of scents had always been better for her than any nap she had ever taken. Both of them gladly suffered through a lack of sleep. Ever since Phoebe had the triplets and everything was getting back to normal, it had become harder to stay consistent with their sexual encounters. Especially during the day. They tended to sneak off to Chandler's room most nights, but Monica was a creature of habit, and she liked to sleep in her own bed. Her room always smelled nice, and her sheets were soft, and her pillows were clean. She simply preferred her place over his, even after Chandler reluctantly let her tidy up his room, which turned into a total home makeover. He didn't mind though, if new sheets and a few extra pillows was the price he had to pay to ensure a naked Monica Gellar would be in his room, then he would gladly oblige.

Monica and Chandler were actually proud of how much sex they were still capable of having right underneath everyone's nose, and they were still amazed at how sexually compatible they were. With Monica's newfound love of quickies, and Chandler's constant desire for her, they were able to have explosively satisfying, if risky, trysts almost every day and night. Constantly fearful of getting caught as they get one in quick before one of their other friends came around. Even when everyone was there in the apartment, they could not seem to control themselves, and were often overcome with passion and desire, leading to the two of them sneaking out the door sharing intimate kisses in the hallway under the guise of throwing out the trash.

The nights that they could sneak into each other's room were when they found themselves having the most time together. Often ending with thirty minutes or so of just lying in bed together, kissing, talking, laughing, and sharing light touches. They haven't admitted it to themselves yet, but these quiet moments are why they have been deliriously happy since they started their affair. The intimacy they experience as they lie in each other's arms has made everything more intense. They tell each other secrets. They shared their honest opinions about the other people in their lives. They admitted to and then defended each other from their own doubts and insecurities. They listened intently, were patient, and were genuinely kind to one another during these stolen instances at dawn. In these moonlight conversations, they revealed their true selves in a way they have never done before with anyone else. Both of them already comfortable with each other thanks to their long friendship, and now, with sex and true intimacy introduced into the equation, many more walls have come down. False modesty, bravado, anxiety, self-doubt; it all disappears when they were lying together like this.

Neither of them have been able to put to voice what they are feeling about this thing happening between them, and they both have real fear and trepidation about moving too far too fast. They have both had very little success dating before, and over the years they have shared countless dating horror stories with each other, reflecting on why it has always been so difficult for them to find love. Strangely enough, their shared experiences seemed to only strengthen their bond instead of work against them. Yet, this budding relation is built on more than just commiseration in misery. They like each other. They are interested in each other. They find each other funny. They have always laughed together, giggling over jokes they have told, trying to one-up the other's latest quip. There was joy in their daily interactions, that has only turned into bliss now that they were sleeping together.

Chandler was proving himself to be a good listener, which Monica had always known, but was still pleasantly surprised with. He wasn't like most men. He did not care about his job, and he never felt the need to release all of the tension that would build up for most people during the workday. It had allowed Monica to unload, almost nightly, in a way she never could before with anyone else. Normally, when she would talk about work with Rachel or Phoebe, as well-intentioned as they could be, they seemed to be waiting for their turn to talk. Chandler though took the time to listen to her. He would often deflect this earnest part of himself with a joke.

_"Well, if I listen to your work stories after sex, then I get to hang out with the hot, naked lady who just had sex with me."_

But it wasn't true. He actually paid attention and offered her thoughtful insight, which was a side of himself he rarely showed. Monica enjoyed having this version of him all to herself. This serious man who cared about her and what she had to say. This smart, attentive person who was so far removed from the nervous, anxiety-riddled jokester she had been accustomed to interacting with over the last couple of years.

For her part, Monica was good at making Chandler get to the point and stay on topic. She was not domineering or controlling, she just had this ability to keep him focused. If he did bring a problem to her and started to digress, she could keep him engaged enough to finish his point and she often helped him work it out. It was like she could decode his more self-sabotaging tendencies and find the center inside him. Unlocking this really wonderful man that was hiding inside. In moments like these, where they lied together, their legs entwined and their hands resting on each other's bodies, nothing else mattered anyway. Nothing else existed.

"So, can you really call in sick this much?"

Chandler looked down and kissed Monica on the top of her head. "Well, I guess we'll find out."

"Chandler."

"Look Mon, it's totally worth it. I can sleep in for a few hours and regain my strength and then after everyone goes to work later, no one will be in the apartment. That's just prime goofing around time."

They both laughed quietly as Monica rested her head on his chest. "Okay. I guess since Joey is going to be gone all day it makes sense."

"Maybe we should figure out a plan to optimize our time together, you know? Figure out everyone's work schedule." Chandler paused for a moment and feigned a concerned look. "Oh my god I sound like you."

Monica laughed and playfully slapped him on the chest, but then flashed him a sober expression as she picked her head up to look at him.

"Wait. Are you serious? Like a schedule where we can figure out who is around at what time?"

Chandler smiled. "Well, maybe that's a stupid idea. Who wants to have a coordinated, color-coded schedule where you keep track of all the optimal times you can have sex? I mean, how hot can cross-referencing charts before sex be?" He paused again and looked down at Monica. "Are you breathing heavy?"

"I think you might have just given me another orgasm." Monica sat up and pointed at him. "Is all this talk about making a sex binder just a way of asking to have more sex now? Because let me tell you, talking about color coordinating a schedule and making a sex binder is how you get more sex."

Chandler laughed and pulled Monica back down to lay beside him. He gave her a gentle squeeze as he wrapped his arms around her. It fell quiet and he looked down at her.

"Wait, were you being serious about more sex? Because we probably have about twelve minutes before I have to go."

Monica leaned up a bit, looked him in the eyes and bit her lip seductively. "Okay!"

* * *

Chandler bent down to look for his sock under the bed. He scanned the room quickly and saw Monica pulling out a thin binder from her closet. She already had a fistful of colored pens and some labeled dividers under her arm.

"Mon, what are you doing?"

She looked at him and sheepishly ducked her head into her shoulders. "Well, okay, don't laugh at me, but I'm making us a sex binder."

"Mon, I wasn't being serious about that." Chandler put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic look. "Isn't the idea of a sex binder a bit ridiculous?"

Monica looked up sharply at him. "Being organized is not ridiculous. It's just good sense. Besides, we might be able to figure out how to have more sex."

Chandler shook his head, but then his eyes opened wide with excitement.

"More sex? I'll be right back! I'm going to go get Joey's date book!"

He gave her a quick kiss and ran out of her bedroom.


	6. Deskcapades

**Deskcapades**

There was normally a prolonged din throughout the offices of Chandler Bing's workplace. People moving around, coworkers calling out each other's name across the floor, phones ringing, copy and fax machines going off intermittently, chatter and conversations scattered about the room. If you were to pay attention and try to listen to the cacophony of sounds all afternoon, it would give you a splitting headache by the end of the day. Even trying not to pay attention could bring immense pain. The work was tedious, forgetful, and seemingly unimportant. Chandler was convinced that if his entire floor had disappeared from the building, no one in the world would notice. Yet, everyday, people scurried around like lab rats as they tried to get their work done. Fridays were different. Maybe it was the anticipation that everyone had for the impending weekend, or the lack of motivation to finish out the work week productively after being trapped in the office for five days, but everything just seemed quieter and much more laid back. There was less urgency to do any extra work as people tried to get out as early as possible so that they could start their weekend. Chandler was no different. By 11am he was done caring about getting any work accomplished. He simply closed his door and resigned himself to use his computer to discretely look at some porn until he could safely sneak out of the building after lunch and perhaps begin his own weekend a bit earlier than everyone else.

That was the plan for today; he would keep a low profile, try to blend into the background, get out early, and get to Monica's by four. He knew that according to the sex binder, every Friday, Rachel went out with a few coworkers for a glass of wine at happy hour before coming home, which meant that he and Monica could have an hour or two all to themselves before anyone else was at the apartment. Chandler allowed his mind to play out everything he could imagine would happen once he got to Monica's. Perhaps, she would already be wearing a sheer, skimpy little negligee. She would have candles lit, and perhaps even wine poured and some soft music playing. All of that would quickly be ignored as she dragged him by his tie into her bedroom.

Chandler was quickly snapped out of his daydream as he heard a knock on his office door. Before he could get up to answer, it swung open and Monica slipped in, closing it quickly behind her. She leaned up against the door and smiled as she twisted the wand and closed his blinds. She was dressed in hip-hugging dark slacks and an over-sized pull over top. Her hair was tied up and she had a hungry look in her eyes. She dropped her jacket off to the side and began to purr seductively

"Hello Mr. Bing. You wanted to see me in your office?" Monica began to saunter over to Chandler, who was still sitting at his desk. He stammered and wore a shocked look on his face. "You know, I always found it very arousing to be with a man who has his own office." She stopped as she reached his desk and ran her fingers along the top of it as she stared at him intensely.

Chandler was still overcome with confusion. "Mon? What's going on? What are you doing here?"

She shook her head as she broke out of the seductive character she was attempting to play. "I was in the area. I know we have plans to meet up later, but I thought maybe, if you weren't busy, we could, you know…" She let her voice trail off, smiled and started to speak in a low, sultry tone again. "How could I resist a man who has his own desk, and his own..." she scanned his desk for a moment for anything to use in her roleplay until she fixated her eyes on his stapler. She picked it up and opened it wide as she ran her finger up and down the length of it seductively. "His own stapler. Yes. This is so hot and sexy." She started to squeeze the stapler and made breathy "ooos" and "aaahhs" with each pull. Her actions sent staples flying out towards Chandler, and a few bounced up and started to hit him under his eye.

Chandler winced in pain and rubbed his cheek. "Ow! Mon! Stop. Look, you know you are no good at using inanimate objects when you try to seduce me. Have we already forgotten the Junior Mints incident from last week?"

Monica's shrugged her shoulders in defeat and nodded bashfully. She put the stapler back down. "Okay, but we can still fool around in your office, right?"

Chandler looked off to the side and pretended to be seriously pondering her question. "Uh, yeah!" He jumped up out of his chair and bounced a bit on his feet. "Sex in my office is fantasy number three on my list!"

Monica smiled, walked slowly around Chandler's desk, and pushed him back down into his chair. She sat on his lap and resumed speaking in a sensual tone. "Well, then maybe we can take one of these pens and cross it off your list today."

Chandler wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close for a kiss. "Mon, can we forget about the office supplies?" She scrunched up her face and nodded. She leaned in and they shared a kiss. Chandler pulled back for a moment and looked at her breathlessly. "So, are we really doing this?"

Monica narrowed her eyes seductively. "Oh, let's do this!"

The two of them stood up and began to furiously undo each other's pants. They yanked them off of each other and threw them into a pile on the floor by his desk. Chandler began to work on the buttons of her shirt and Monica leaned it as they shared several hard, powerful kisses. Suddenly, they were snapped out of their intense embrace as they heard a knock on Chandler's door. Instinctively, Chandler dove down and scooted his body under his desk. Monica looked down at him incredulously, but before she could say something the door opened and Chandler's assistant entered the room. She looked at Monica curiously, and Monica quickly sat down behind the desk and settled herself into Chandler's chair.

"Mr. Bing?"

Monica looked up and nervously bit at her lower lip. "Hey there you! Uh, well, Mr. Bing stepped out for a minute. I'm a friend of his, just waiting for him so we can go to lunch!"

"Oh, okay, well then I'll be back after lunch and talk to him then." She shared a nod with Monica, turned and left.

Monica pulled the chair back as Chandler rose up from under the desk. She looked down at him in disbelief. "Why did you hide?"

"I didn't want to get caught."

Monica grit her teeth and in an aggravated tone, began to reprimand him. "But it's your office. You're supposed to be in here. If anything, I should have been under the desk and you should have been in the chair!"

Chandler started to pull himself up from the floor. "I know! I panicked!" Before he could get to his feet, there was another knock on his door. Before he could answer, the door swung open again and Chandler dove back down under the desk. Monica threw her hands up exasperatedly and fumed as an infuriated look washed over her face.

A tall man with glasses and a receding hairline entered the office and looked around.

"Hey Bing!"

Monica's face had become tight with building frustration. She spoke through gritted teeth. "He's not here! Come back after lunch!"

The man shuffled backwards nervously. He spun around and left the office in a hurry, clearly intimated by Monica's tone. Chandler popped back up from under the desk.

"I'm so sorry. Look, let me go lock the door."

Monica spoke in a sharp tone, still gritting her teeth. "That would be a good idea."

Chandler grabbed a pair of pants from the pile of clothes on the floor and attempted to put them on. He strained a bit and grunted as he struggled to get his legs in. finally, he pulled as hard as he could and then stopped when he heard a loud, unmistakable rip.

Monica's features softened and she started to laugh. "Did you just tear your pants open? Serves you right for leaving me to deal with your coworkers while you hid under the desk!"

Chandler lifted up the now ruined pair of slacks and examined them. "Hey, Mon?"

Monica was still laughing as she spun around giddily in his chair. "What?"

He looked at her nervously. "Well, um, would it still be funny if we found out I ripped your pants?" He handed the ripped garment over to Monica apologetically.

"YOU! DID! WHAT!" Monica took the pair of pants from Chandler and inspected the tag. "NOOOOOOO! Why would you try to put on my pants?"

"Well," Chandler looked down at the other pair of pants on the floor, "I was very confused. They look the same and they're both the same color."

Monica looked over at Chandler's pants lying on the floor and desperately gestured at them. "They are not the same color!" her voice started to get louder as she became more enraged. "My pants are midnight blue and yours are navy blue!"

Chandler looked over at both articles of clothing and then looked at Monica. "Mon, I'm sorry, but as a man, all I can see are two pairs of blue pants."

She huffed and sunk back into Chandler's chair. "What do we do now? These are ruined. I can't wear them now and I can't go home without pants!"

Chandler looked around the room for a few minutes and then his face lit up. "I got it, I'll just send my assistant to go buy you a new pair of pants. She'll bring them in, then you put on the new pants, and then you can go home?"

Monica looked at him and she allowed herself to calm down. "I guess that would work. Okay, but you have to give me your boxers."

"My boxers?" Chandler looked back over at Monica, confused by her request. "Why do you need my boxers?"

She looked over to make sure the door was still closed and spoke softly. "Because I thought it would be sexy to come in here without any underwear on."

Chandler perked up and looked at her with lascivious eyes. "What? You mean you don't have any underwear on right now? You're going commando. Nice!" He started to smile and slowly nod his head.

Monica grunted at him angrily. "Focus Bing! Boxers! Now!"

Chandler slid out of his boxer shorts and handed them over to Monica. She slipped them on under her shirt as Chandler reached down, picked up his pants and put them on. They switched positions and Monica sat down on the by his desk so she wouldn't be seen by anyone who walked in. Chandler sat down in his chair and looked over at her as he wiggled his eyebrows. "You know, we probably have a half hour or so before she gets back from lunch."

Monica looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "The moment passed big guy." She then motioned to the frozen images on his computer screen. "Also, porn at work? That's just gross."

They waited silently for the next twenty minutes, only taking time to share disbelieving looks. Finally, after what had felt like a lifetime, Chandler's assistant returned. She knocked on his door and poked her head through. Monica scooched down a bit more, hoping to avoid being seen. Chandler motioned for his assistant to come closer to him and she gingerly approached. He started to speak quietly and looked around the room as his face went red with embarrassment.

"Hey, I need you to do something for me. I need you to take my credit card and go buy me a pair of women's pants."

His assistant dropped some paperwork onto his desk and looked back at him suspiciously. "You want me to buy women's pants?"

Awkwardness glowed across his face as his cheeks became flush. "Uh, well, yeah. I need them, uh, for a gift."

She looked him over and took his credit card from his hand. "What size do you need?"

"I guess, medium?" Suddenly Monica grabbed the fleshy part of his thigh and squeezed it, "Owww! I mean small. I need a small pair of women's pants please. Okay then, thank you."

His assistant shook her head and left. Monica lifted her head back up from under the desk to ensure she was gone and then she looked over at Chandler.

"I am so mad right now! My whole day has been wasted sitting on the floor in what are the ugliest boxer shorts I have ever seen."

Chandler softened his voice and reached out to hold her hand. "Mon, look, let's not let today ruin tonight, right? I mean, we can still get together. We don't want to lose a Friday evening because of this? Look, how about after she brings back the pants, you go home, rest up and I'll meet you there, I'll bring your favorite champagne. The expensive one that you really like."

Monica reluctantly flashed him a bashful smile. "Okay, I guess we really don't want to ruin tonight." She leaned up and kissed him before she sat back down on the floor beside his desk.

* * *

A few hours later Monica was in her bedroom and thought about this afternoon's debacle. She shook her head and laughed.

_"It was pretty funny. And, under the circumstances, __it was fun to hang out with Chandler today." _

She laughed again and then her face lit up.

_"I should do something to show Chandler that I'm not mad anymore." _

She looked around the room and for some reason, her mind went back to the pornographic image that was frozen on Chandler's computer. She allowed a devilish smile to spread across her lips. She looked at the clock, and figured that he would be entering her apartment in just a few short minutes. She dropped her robe and climbed up on the bed. She got on all fours and arched her back as she made sure to face away from the door. She nodded to herself as she looked over her shoulder. She was convinced that she was replicating the position that the porn actress was in perfectly. A seductive smile spread across her lips as she waited for him, giddy with how excited he would be to find her in this position.

_"Wow, I can't believe Chandler's assistant almost saw me naked. That would have been embarrassing."_

Just as she predicted, she heard the door to the apartment open and close as someone started to walk around. A few seconds later, there was a knock on her bedroom door. Monica slid her nightie up slightly so that when he entered he would catch a glimpse of her naked body. She called out to him in a sing-song voice.

"Come in. I've been waiting for you."

The door flew open and Rachel walked in.

"Hi, I just…"

Upon seeing Monica in the most compromising of positions, Rachel screamed and ran out of the room.

Monica grit her teeth and leaped off the bed as she wrapped her robe around her body.

"Oh crap."


	7. Going into Overdrive

**Going into Overdrive**

Monica had always liked sex.

For Monica, more often than not, sex was a gratifying, spontaneous, unpredictable, primal escape from the organized, rigid order that was her life. A much-needed respite from the tight-fisted grip of control that she exerted over everything in her purview. When she was having sex, especially really good sex, her mind would stop busying itself with her myriad of commitments and duties as a chef, sister, and best friend. Work schedules, doctor appointments, bills, debt, chores, everyone else's problems; they all washed away as her pulse quickened and obscured the outside world, letting her lose herself in the hot fog of passion.

In those moments when she gave into her basest of desires, and focused on her own need for physical satisfaction, she would clear her mind and surrender herself to all of the tactile sensations that she craved. That unmistakable feeling of being filled up by someone who was the perfect size, the sensation of warmth that reverberated across her body as she was penetrated, the way she stretched perfectly to accommodate her partner as she welcomed him eagerly into her, the rush of blood that pumped through her veins as her pounding heart seemed to beat in time, syncing up once they found their rhythm. All the tension she carried around with her from her job, the burden she felt from all of her responsibilities, her doubts, her fears, her insecurities, they were all replaced with euphoria as she was overcome by the overwhelming sensation of fullness. It was as if she had this lock, and someone else had the key, and when they opened it, sheer waves of pleasure took over her entire being and washed everything else away.

Sex wasn't always perfect though, and some of her partners had been downright disappointing at times, leaving her feeling frustrated as they struggled to connect physically. Yet, even then, once she had become fully in tune with what her body needed, she would be able to spur most of them on to bring her close enough to completion so she could at least finish herself off. After all, Monica hated to waste her time, and not being able to squeeze some kind of satisfaction out of a romp in the sack would have definitely been a waste of her time. It was not lost on her that her need to make each encounter pay off in some way was driven by her sheer force of will to dominate every perceived competition, including sex. Her fierce need to be the best, to strive for perfection, helped her turn even the most lackluster of partners into a serviceable lover.

She always enjoyed the first few months of a burgeoning relationship. It provided her with a new sexual counterpart to devour. The way it felt to revel in discovery, how every moment together was devoted to pure physical lust, compelled her to tackle sex with even greater enthusiasm. Every minute alone with a new man she was attracted to would be devoted to kissing, touching, tasting, and exploring each other's body. Knowing that they could hardly contain themselves as they stripped each other down and gave into their desires. Each of them trying to learn new ways to please each other while everything was fresh and exciting. Although sometimes, unfortunately, there would be some awkward moments as they fumbled a bit in their attempts to become better acquainted with each other's body. It would frustrate Monica to no end, being with someone she so desperately desired, yet not being capable of surrendering completely to the rush of excitement as they fused together into one. Those early attempts would normally be overlooked once they finally learned what worked best for each other as they began to achieve total satisfaction.

Although, for Monica to truly unlock pleasure and fulfillment, sex needed to include an emotional component. She had her best sex with the men that she had loved, or at the very least, the ones that she felt a deep connection with. To be confident in the knowledge that they were both there to please each other as much as they were there to derive their own gratification, pushed her over the edge. It bestowed upon her almost limitless energy that she could channel into those heightened moments when they were both almost ready to finish. Leaving them in a crumpled, sweaty mess. Yet, even with those she loved, there were nights when she was still left wanting more, and complete satisfaction escaped her.

Up until now, Monica thought she knew all there was to know about herself physically, and all the ways she could derive pleasure from sex. She was certain, as she slowly crept towards thirty, that she had mastered the art, but somehow, inexplicably, she was wrong. Ever since London, sex was different. It was better. More fulfilling. More exciting. It had become rich, like a sweet slice of decadent chocolate cake. Suddenly, for the first time, there was this amazing blend of everything she liked the most about sex happening at one. It was as if finally, she had discovered everything she ever wanted sex to be.

It was new and exciting. It was familiar and fit perfectly every time. There was no fumbling. Instead, she felt an instant and deeper connection than she had ever had with any other partner. One that could only exist between two people who had ten years to bond on this emotionally intimate level that until now, she had no idea even existed. Sex now was always so very satisfying, with some of the most intense orgasms she had ever experienced.

Sex was the only thing she could think about ever since that first night they were together. She suddenly found every encounter with him arousing, no matter how mundane, as if she were some horny teenager. Flashes of heat would bounce across her body and her knees would wobble just from seeing him burst through her apartment door. When he stood before her, she could sense how intense her stare was becoming as she practically burned his clothes off of him with her eyes. Her lips would grow dry, and she would be compelled to lick them slowly, wetting them in anticipation. Her hips, her breasts, her thighs, every inch of her started to tingle as she craved to be touched by him. Her entire body felt sensitive to even his slightest touch; just the breeze that played across her chest as he took her hand and rushed her to her bedroom made her quiver. His breath on her skin as he leaned in to kiss her neck drove her wild with desire. By the time their lips touched, she was already ruined.

Monica had liked sex very much up until this point in her life. Yet, after London, she has learned, that now she loved sex. She craved sex. She needed sex. It had never been like this before, and it was all Chandler's fault.

That stupid, immature, ridiculously annoying, gloating idiot, Chandler.

If he wasn't so stupid, she would be over at his apartment right now instead of cleaning her bathroom for the second time tonight.

If he wasn't so immature, she would have started to rip his clothes off the second he opened the door.

If he were not so ridiculously annoying, she'd have already shoved him down on his bed as she prepared to devour him whole.

If he hadn't been gloating like an idiot, they'd be preparing themselves for a second round right now, even as they tried to catch their breath while the sweat from their love making cooled on their skin.

Every fiber of her being has been pushing her to let it go, ignore how foolish he was acting, walk across the hall, and jump on top of him. But then, that would mean she gave in. That she let him off the hook. That he won. That she lost.

Monica knew she could not lose. Not this one. She needed Chandler to sweat for a little bit longer. He needed to be punished, and not in the good way like last week when they took turns spanking each other with a spatula. No. She would resist her urges and stay strong. This cold war between them, ever since he leapt up on her table to do his ridiculous dance, had to last a little longer.

So, Monica was going to scrub the bathroom floor again. And again, and even a fourth time if she had to. Anything to keep her mind distracted from all the amazing sex she was being deprived of as she froze him out. And while making the grout shine and the pipes sparkle would have been a decent substitute in the past, she no longer found it nearly as satisfying as it would be if she were underneath him right now. Feeling his weight on her as they moaned into each other mouths the moment she welcomed him inside her. All of these wonderful pleasures they were missing out on because he had to be a complete idiot.

Yet, she knew eventually she would forgive him, because even though Chandler was an idiot, he was her idiot.


	8. We're The Best

**We're the Best**

"OW!"

With a thud, the back of Monica's head hits the door as Chandler fails at his attempt to carry her dashingly out of apartment twenty. She uses one of her hands to rub the sore spot at the back of her skull, yet steels herself, determined not to let this unfortunate accident ruin the moment. She quickly returns her gaze to his face.

He looks down at her with a mixture of apprehension, embarrassment and concern. "You know that wasn't part of it?"

"I Know!"

"All Right!"

Chandler redoubles his efforts and quickly makes his way across the hall to his own apartment. He pauses and struggles as he tries to find the right angle to support her weight and open the door.

He looks down and weakly flashes her a reassuring smile. "All Right! Let's show them how it's done!" He strains as he tries to navigate a delicate balance between seduction and practicality. A few moments pass while Chandler fumbles in his attempts to open the door. Frustration builds upon his brow as his hand frantically flails about the knob of his door.

"I said, let's show them how it's done!"

Monica, seeing the embarrassment starting to paint Chandler's cheeks red, reaches her free hand down and deftly opens the door. "I got it!"

Chandler kicks it open and, once inside, hooks his foot behind the door to force it closed. He looks down at Monica and they share a smile and a few eager glances.

"Okay, now let's show them how it's done."

Chandler makes his way over to his bedroom door and reaches down with the hand that is around Monica's waist, yet once again, he struggles to open it.

"Oh Come on!"

Monica reaches down behind her while holding steady her excited gaze.

"I got it!"

She turns the handle and forces the door open. "You're lucky we are on the same team."

Chandler shakes his head as he lets loose with a half-smile. He kicks his door closed as he carries her into his room, dropping her onto his bed.

* * *

"You. Are. Welcome."

Chandler finds himself breathless and can only pant heavily as the two of them lie there wrapped haphazardly in his sheets. Their limbs still entwined as beads of sweat begin to dry on their skin. Monica laughs and nudges him as he gently squeezes her arm. She rolls her eyes and gives him a playful jab with her elbow.

"Did you not learn anything before about being obnoxious?"

"Sorry, you're right."

Chandler reaches over to his nightstand and starts to rummage around in the top drawer. "Let me make it up to you. I have something that you can add to the sex binder."

"I love getting things I can put in a binder." Monica greedily claps her hands and rubs them together. She then tilts her head as her smile fades and she eyes him skeptically. "But, wait, I thought you weren't a big fan of the sex binder."

Chandler stops his search and turns to face her. "Mon, you really think that I don't like the idea that there's physical evidence proving I am having sex with a beautiful woman? Something future generations will one day study and marvel at? Don't you know me at all?"

Monica shrugs her shoulders and lets out a laugh as she settles back into the bed.

Chandler turns back to his nightstand to resume his search. "I know it is here somewhere. Ah Ha!" He turns back again and hands Monica a wrinkled piece of paper that looks to have been folded closed and reopened dozens of times.

Monica holds it up as if he handed her a dead mouse. "Great. Just what I always wanted. Garbage."

"Open it up woman!'

Monica unfolds it and scrutinizes the page. She smiles as she brings her hand to her mouth.

"Oh my god! You still have this?" She sits up and flashes Chandler a look that is a mixture of being impressed with him while also beaming with pride for herself. "And you want to put this in the sex binder?"

"Sure, I mean, we should probably preserve the thing that makes me the best, right?" Chandler sits up and leans closer to Monica so they can look at the wrinkled piece of paper together.

Monica reaches her hand out and gestures to Chandler. "Give me a pen."

Chandler reaches over, pulls a pen out of his drawer, and hands it to Monica.

"This is not going in any binder. This is staying right here with you mister. We aren't done with it yet."

She begins to scribble furiously on the page and Chandler, overcome with curiosity, leans over to peek at what she is writing.

"What are you doing?"

Monica gives Chandler a playful shove and pushes him away from her so he can't read over her shoulder.

"No peeking! I'm giving you a homework assignment."

Chandler laughs and puts his hands behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling. "Homework? Didn't I already pass this course?"

"Well, now you're in the graduate program."

She pauses her actions and stares off into the corner of her room with a contemplative look on her face. A sly smile spreads across her lips and her eyes narrow as she finds herself becoming aroused again.

"Hey, you know, ever since we missed out on the plane ride home from London, and how the other day at your office didn't work out, I was just thinking, we still need to find a nice, public, but private place to, you know…" she bites her lower lip and looks over at him with desirous intent.

Chandler feigns shock and outrage.

"Monica E. Geller Esquire! You're dirty!"

She laughs and hands the sheet of paper back to Chandler. She crosses over the top of him and runs her hand slowly along his chest as she points at the page. "Meet me downstairs in twenty minutes and memorize number four!"

Monica leans in to kiss him and springs up from his bed. She quickly gathers her clothes and turns back to look at him over her shoulder as she gets dressed. She flashes a wide, giddy smile before making her way out of his bedroom and leaves the apartment.

Chandler rests with his hands behind his head. A look of triumphant bliss plastered on his face. His eyes widen as he glances towards his bedroom door when he hears the click of the apartment door opening back up.

"Oh, did you forget something?"

Heavy footsteps bound across the apartment and stop at his bedroom door. It swings open wildly and Joey pops his head in to look around.

"Chandler? What are you doing in bed already?"

Joey steps into the room and he crooks his neck as starts to sniff around the room like a bloodhound on the hunt. His eyes go wide with shock and disbelief.

"Hey, wait-a-minute."

He sniffs loudly once more as his eyes cover every inch of Chandler's bedroom. Suddenly, Joey's face turns to one of exaggerated surprise.

"You had sex in here!"

Chandler, dumbfounded at his roommate's astute observation, starts to stammer.

"What? No I didn't."

Joey inhales deeply through his nostrils once more. "Yep. You had sex! I mean, it was either you had sex in here or someone ate a lot of olive loaf; and you and I both know you don't like olive loaf." Joey points an accusatory finger at Chandler.

"It is olives stuck in a mystery meat! That's just an abomination! It was created as a cruel punishment for the wicked!"

Joey looks around the room again. "Yeah, you had sex."

He sniffs once more.

"You had sex twice!"

Another sniff.

"Almost three times." He smiles and gives Chandler a thumbs up. "Nice!"

Joey takes one last, deep sniff of the room.

"And she was hot!"

The smile fades and Joey once again looks sternly at his roommate.

Chandler looks back at Joey incredulously. "How are you doing this?"

Joey folds his arms smugly and raises a single eyebrow. "that's just what I do. Now give. What happened here?"

"Okay." Chandler raises a hand to Joey, motioning him to stop. "All right! I had sex, but, uh, I didn't want to say anything because, uh, it was, well, it was with, uh, Janice. That's right. We ran into each other downstairs, and one thing just led to another."

Joey shakes his head and stares at Chandler with sympathy and disappointment. "Janice? Come on man!"

"I know, Joe, but look, this was just sex. We both agreed that it would be our last time. And now, it's done and we will never see each other again. We swore we would never talk about it, not even to our friends. But just so you know, it's done. It's over."

Joey looks him over suspiciously and takes a moment to work out everything Chandler just said. He finally lets his face relax and his tone softens.

"Okay, if you say it was a just a one-time thing and now it's over, I'll believe you, because we can't go through this again dude. It's too much for me. You know how I get around her."

Chandler nods sympathetically at his friend. "I know Joe, I'm sorry that bringing up my exes is so hard for you. But it's over now and will never happen again. Do you think we can just keep this between you and me?"

Joey smiles and rushes in to hug Chandler.

"I can't stay mad at you pal."

They sit in awkward silence while hugging and Joey reluctantly punctures the uncomfortable silence.

"You're naked under that sheet, aren't you."

They both pull back and begin to clear their throats as they avoid looking at each other.

"Well, look pal, at least you got to have sex, right? I mean, it's been a while. If it had to be with Janice, then that's what it had to be." Joey moves in closer to Chandler as his tone become low and earnest. "So, between you and me, how was she?"

"Joe! Will you get out of hear so I can get dressed!"

Chandler pushes him towards the door and Joey grumbles his way out of the room.

Chandler waits until he hears the bathroom door close and then he leaps up from his bed. He frantically gets dressed, throwing his clothes on so fast he misses a few buttons as he closes up his shirt. He reaches over as he slips on his shoes and grabs the sheet of paper that Monica had scribbled on earlier. He smiles as he studies it intently, then he folds it up and puts it back in his night stand drawer. He dances in place as he lets loose a quiet, yet giddy laugh. Once he checks to make sure Joey is still in the bathroom, he rushes through his apartment, quickly exits into the hallway and bounds down the stairwell, hoping he did not take too long with Joey and that Monica was still waiting for him at Central Perk.


	9. Today's Special

**Today's Special**

In most restaurants, the head chef will focus on the overall daily operation of the entire kitchen. They make sure everyone understands each recipe and learns the specials for that night, giving detailed instructions on how to prepare new dishes to ensure they are made to the chef's specifications. Throughout the evening they will perform quality control checks of ingredients, soups and sauces; often going back-and-forth from station to station with their tasting spoon readily available. They will inspect the cleanliness of the kitchen and the functionality of the equipment. They will ensure everyone follows the same uniformity of portion sizes and that each finished plate looks perfect before letting the dish get sent out to the dining room. The head chef will also focus on maintaining inventory of food in the walk-in and dried goods in the stockroom, they will design the menu, train staff, hold pre-shift meetings, ensure that proper sanitation habits are being adhered to, and keep track of food waste. The rest of the food prep tasks are customarily delegated to other cooks and the sous chef.

That is what happens in most kitchens, but Monica Geller's kitchen is not most kitchens.

Monica is much more involved than your typical head chef. She likes to have control over every aspect and every detail of every thing that goes on in her kitchen. You could find her chopping vegetables, stirring soups, straining stock with a chinois, organizing the placement of the knives, moving around prep station paraphernalia, and wiping down equipment. She holds three separate pre-shift meetings instead of one. She makes recommendations on the staff uniforms, and will even go into the dining area and move tables around to fit her perfect aesthetic. For Monica Geller, being a head chef, even with the long hours and high stress, is a little piece of heaven.

Monica's relationships with her coworkers has improved drastically since she first started at Alessandro's. There has been some turnover since she was hired to run the kitchen, which she swears she had nothing to do with. It had really started to get better ever since Joey helped her assert control over the staff when she "fired" him in front of everyone. After that, the rest of the cooks have mostly gotten in line. The servers and busboys have also been nicer to her and the hosts are mostly all new, so they have no resentment over how Monica got her job.

Monica's favorite coworker is the lead host, Meagan. Meagan is a few years younger than Monica, but has many of the same personality traits. She is very organized, she has excellent time management skills, and she communicates with the rest of the wait staff in a clear and concise manner, which is what first endeared her to Monica. They have a similar sense of humor and Monica enjoys the compliments Meagan gives her food when tasting new dishes. It also did not hurt that Meagan had told Monica that she looked up to her. She marveled at her success, a young woman under thirty, in a position of power in a male dominated field.

Now, because of how close they have becom, Monica finds that her pre-shift meetings with Meagan are more of an excuse to catch her breath before the busy day begins rather than a functional necessity for the restaurant. They will go over the specials of the day or figure out some wine pairings to recommend, but after that, they will just talk for ten to fifteen minutes about whatever is going on in their lives over a quick cup of coffee.

Meagan normally dominates the conversation with some new drama about some guy she is seeing, and Monica is more than happy to give advice and make a final judgment about whoever happens to be Meagan's flavor of the week. Monica will usually talk about her brother or maybe her parents if they had just been in town for a visit, and the memory still fresh in her mind. While it is normally only a short conversation, they both look forward to these talks, and have bonded over the last few months as a result.

Monica and Meagan have developed a routine for their pre-shift meetings. They will fix up two cups of coffee, find a table or booth in the back of the restaurant that is out of earshot, and get the official business out of the way. Meagan will take notes as Monica reads off exactly how she wants the staff to describe the specials so that Meagan can share that with the other hosts and waiters later on before the dinner rush starts. Once that is done, and a plan for the night has been finalized, they will sip their coffee and catch up.

As Monica closed her book, she allowed herself to sit back and close her eyes.

Meagan smiled as she sipped her coffee. "I've been meaning to ask you, is everything all right with you? You haven't been yelling as much as you normally do, and lately, you have been letting the other cooks do a lot more work. With a normal person that usually means something good, but with you, I figure something is wrong."

Monica laughed as she blew on her mug of coffee before taking a sip. "I don't yell!" Monica winced as she instantly became self-aware of how loud that came out. She lowered her head and flashed a self-conscious smile. "Okay, maybe I yell, but I don't yell that much." Meagan raised a skeptical eyebrow as she continued drinking her coffee and Monica waved her off. I don't know. I guess I just saw how well everyone handled everything while I was away for my brother's wedding and it impressed me. I think they are finally getting how to do things the Monica way." She laughed again and sat back as she warmed her hands on her mug. "And, I guess I am just more relaxed lately."

Meagan gave Monica a devilish look. "Okay. But, you know, in my experience, when someone starts to get more relaxed, it normally means they're getting laid on the regular."

Monica laughed and blushed. "Oh, come on…"

Meagan sat up in her seat and squealed as she cut Monica off. "Oh my god, you are getting laid. Why didn't you tell me! Come to think of it, you haven't talked about any men since I started working here." She pulled in closer to the table and looked around to ensure they would not be overheard. "You're holding out on me Geller. Who's the guy?"

Monica lowered her shoulders and put her cup back on the table. "He's no one. I mean, sure he is someone but it's complicated. He is a friend. It just sort of happened."

Meagan paused as a look of discovery washed over her face. "Wait, is he that cute guy who comes in here every now and then and meets you after work?"

Monica blushed and shook her head. "I didn't think anybody knew about that."

Meagan sat back and smugly sipped her coffee. "Honey, I see everything."

Monica shifted in her seat and looked around. She started to use her fingers to pull at the tablecloth. "Yeah, but, we're just good friends. Or we were good friends. To be honest, I don't know what we are. We've just kind of been keeping a low profile and not putting too much pressure on ourselves."

Meagan quickly read how uncomfortable Monica was becoming and softened her tone. "Well, how is it going then with this good friend."

Monica's face lit up as she smiled. "It's great!"

"Do you like him?"

Monica took a deep breath and leaned back further into the booth. She looked down at the table. "Sure, he is one of my closest friends. He is such a good guy too. He's one of those guys who can't see how good he is. He always does these amazing things for other people and it's all on instinct. He's always looking out for his friends and he has always been there for me. He can be really infuriating, but also so sweet and kind. And he really has no idea what a great guy he is." Monica, without realizing it, began smiling wide as she spoke of Chandler. Her cheeks became flush and her eyes started to sparkle.

Meagan looked back at Monica and tried to stifle a laugh by covering her mouth. "He sounds great. What's the problem?"

Monica bit her lip and checked the clock She exhaled sharply and spoke low. "He's a friend. I never saw this coming. But one night, we were hanging out, and he was being his normal, kind, sweet self; trying to make me feel better, and I just suddenly realized how handsome he was and I just saw him as this totally different guy. And I was worried, that maybe I'd lose my sweet friend, but now, I feel like I have that sweet friend and I have this new guy who I find really attractive. And it doesn't hurt that he knows what he is doing in the bedroom."

Monica was taken aback for a moment at how candid she was being. She looked down and wondered if having no one else to talk to about what was going on in her life had built up this pressure inside her. All of these thoughts waiting to come out, like a geyser bursting. She tried so hard to keep everything close to the vest, yet all it took was a little probing from a work friend to bring it all to the surface.

Meagan drained the last of her coffee. "It sounds like it's going pretty good. When do you guys see each other again?"

Monica grinned and nodded. "It is pretty good. I'm actually going to see him later tonight." She cringed again as if to prepare herself for ridicule. "We're meeting at his place tonight at about three."

Meagan's mouth dropped in shock. "Wow, three? Is the sex really that good? I mean, a late night booty call? Maybe I should sleep with him."

Monica laughed. "I know I'm that good. Maybe you should sleep with me."

"Touche."

"We like to make sure we see each other every day. He said he doesn't want a day to go by without being able to kiss me. Isn't that cheesy?" Monica stuck her tongue out and made a show of false disgust, but her blushing cheeks revealed how she really felt.

Meagan chuckled at her false bravado and stood up. She flattened out her pants and grabbed her coffee cup. "Well, Chef Geller, it sounds to me like you have a boyfriend." She laughed once more and walked away.

Monica blew air from her mouth in disbelief. "Oh yeah, sure. I have a boyfriend."

She continued mocking Meagan with a sarcarcastic tone."Oh, look at me, Chandler Bing is my boyfriend."

She laughed and smiled, repeating herself again, only a little quieter, a little sweeter. "Chandler Bing is my boyfriend."

She reflected on that for a moment and suddenly then her face went white and a serious look washed over her face.

"Oh crap. Chandler Bing is my boyfriend."


	10. Perfect

**Perfect**

Even a day later, Chandler was still surprised at how easily it rolled off his tongue.

"_What if we went away for the whole weekend."_

It was preposterous.

A trip.

For the weekend.

With a girl he was seeing.

And he wasn't freaking out.

The last time he offered up an impromptu weekend away with a woman he was dating, it was the feverish, desperate request from a man on the brink of a nervous breakdown. He went temporarily insane. A panic induced Hail Mary as he forced himself to accept the inevitability of getting serious with someone he was seeing. Petrified as he realized he would be moving past the beginning phase of a relationship to a place where things would no longer be casual. Hysteria gripped him tightly as he attempted to get through the tunnel for the first time in his life. He was teetering on the precipice; caught between the hungry dogs he had always imagined chasing him down, representing all his fears and doubts about his ability to maintain a healthy relationship, and the vast chasm before him that was commitment.

And yet, despite his checkered past with big moments like this, and without even giving it a second thought, he offered up the idea of spending a weekend away together with Monica as if it was no big deal. This was the same man who refused to share a cab with a woman after their third date because he felt it was too big of a step to take and sent the wrong signals. A man who freaked out when someone ate tomatoes off his plate, displaying a level of couple-hood that he was not yet ready to embrace. A man who couldn't stand under the same umbrella with a woman he was dating because he didn't want her to think it meant something more than just his desire to stay dry.

Inexplicably, he made that crazy suggestion to Monica, and now he was going to spend the entire weekend with a woman, and he felt no fear. There was no panic. Instead, it seemed so simple and obvious. It felt natural. It felt right. Judging by Monica's reaction, she thought so too.

While he sat in his office and prepared for their trip, he was struck by how easy everything felt. He rented a car, booked a room, printed out a map, looked up restaurants and even got a copy of the room service menu. Throughout all that planning, he never got entangled in any of the webs he would usually construct as he fell victim to his trepidation. It was so strange for him not to freak out, that he was left there at the end of the day wondering why he was so calm. He was getting ready to spend a weekend away with a girl he was seeing, and he was steady as a rock.

Sometime between work and arriving home, he had an epiphany, and it was as if a lightning bolt hit him. This wasn't just some girl he was seeing. This was Monica. This wasn't a weekend with someone he was still getting to know, someone whose habits he was learning about, someone he was going to expose to his own hidden behaviors. He wasn't being suffocated by the idea of entering uncharted waters in his relationship. This wasn't new territory he was exploring. This was one of his best friends. Someone he had known for close to ten years. This was business as usual. They have already been on plenty of trips together. Ski lodges, camping, the beach, Boston, Long Island, London. They've done it all. They knew each other's sleep habits, they've seen each other early in the morning before either one had time to grab a shower, they've crossed paths in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Going away for the weekend with Monica was no scarier than going away for the weekend with Joey or Ross. The only real difference between them and Monica is that he doesn't want to see Joey or Ross naked at the end of the night.

He became giddy as he thought about how good he had it with Monica. He was certain now, thanks to their familiarity, that this might actually be the greatest couple's weekend in the history of couple's weekends. No stress. No worrying. No second guessing everything you said and did. He didn't have to pretend. He didn't have to worry that he wasn't on his best behavior. He could just relax and be himself. It was like having the best of both worlds. He got to hang out with one of his best friends and have sex with a beautiful woman. It was almost too good to be true. It was perfect.

* * *

Monica was looking over the contents of her bag for the third time since she woke up this morning. She needed everything to be perfect for her first weekend away with Chandler. Yesterday she got her nails done, had her eyebrows waxed, and even picked up some teeth whitening strips. She stopped at the little boutique down the street that has the really nice, but really expensive, lacy bras and panties. She packed extra shoes, including that new pair she bought before London that she had been dying to find an excuse to wear. She even had time to steam press this nice dress she packed in hopes that they would take a break from the constant sex and have at semi-formal dinner as a couple in one of the high-end restaurants along the boardwalk.

Monica was determined to make this the most wonderful, romantic experience for Chandler. She wanted to show him what having Monica Geller as a girlfriend was really like, in a way she couldn't while they were sneaking around behind everyone else's backs. This wasn't going to be a 3am visit into his bedroom, followed by amazing sex and a sleepy all-night conversation. This was going to be a weekend for them to really see what this relationship could be. They were finally going to be a couple.

Monica knew she was putting a lot of pressure on two days in Atlantic City to live up to her expectations. The South Jersey locale was not exactly the most picturesque backdrop they could have chosen. Something about being surrounded by drunks, gamblers, prostitutes, and grifters on her first romantic weekend with her boyfriend left her feeling slightly skeptical at the possibility it could provide then with the same air of magic as London had.

When Chandler told her where they were going, it took all her willpower not to intervene. She would have offered up Cape Cod, Boston, The Hamptons, or even some quaint little town upstate. There were a dozen other locations she would have preferred. Yet, she bit her tongue. She did not know why, but for the first time since London, she felt as if she couldn't be her usual overbearing self and wrestle control of every detail from him. She had to let him know she wasn't still his neurotic friend that he had watched drive all other men away with her obsessive need for perfection. No, she was going to show him that she was a different Monica now that they were together.

The only suggestion she made was that he should get them a room with a view of the ocean. She figured even with all the grime that Atlantic City could offer, the ocean view would create the illusion of romance. They could open their curtains and see the moon shining off the water as they turned the lights in the room low. It would make them feel as if they were making love surrounded by this magical glow. Atlantic City was not ideal, but as long as they were together, away from the prying eyes of their friends, it would be perfect.

* * *

Monica and Chandler had spent the last hour of their drive talking about rushing into the room the moment they arrived at the hotel. They were ready to enjoy a few hours of crazy, primal, and very loud sex. The kind of sex they had not been about to have ever since Rachel came back from Greece. Without fear of discovery. Without worrying about how much time they had. An entire weekend to do as they pleased. And all they wanted to do when they was please each other. Repeatedly.

They could barely keep their hands off each other in the car. As Atlantic City appeared on the horizon, Monica enjoyed teasing Chandler and seeing how he reacted every time she touched his thigh or kissed him on his neck and whispered details of what she planned to do to him once they hopped into their bed. She was certain he was going to crash the car.

Unfortunately, they got to the hotel too early, and would not be able to check in for a few hours. They left their bags at the desk and decided to walk around the casino in hopes to find some kind of distraction to help keep their minds occupied. Chandler offered to bankroll some blackjack, but Monica was more interested in getting something to eat. They walked through the game floor, both practically disoriented by all the lights and noises. It was almost dizzying. Monica pointed to the bar, suggested getting a drink first, and Chandler grabbed her hand to lead her over.

As they stood there, holding hands, Monica was struck by how much of a couple they were in this moment. They were no longer consumed by sexual desire and instead, enjoyed people watching as they sipped on overpriced cocktails. Chandler would let his hand linger on her leg and they laughed, giggled, and smiled as they stared into each other's eyes. This was what she wanted. This felt right. This moment, sitting at a casino bar, fingers entwined and sharing a laugh, felt more like they were in a relationship than at any other point since their return from London. She looked down at their hands. This was worth risking their friendship for.

After lunch, as they made their way back to the front desk, Monica pointed out Donald Trump waiting for an elevator. She was surprised that he didn't have a private one made of solid gold hidden somewhere deep in the hotel and Chandler made a joke that his hair was probably a fire hazard.

They stopped for one more drink as they made a second pass through the casino floor before checking in. Monica succumbed to her competitiveness and played a few pulls on a slot machine. She grumbled and complained that it must have been rigged when it failed to bear them even a modest treasure. Chandler chuckled at her inability to lose gracefully and he took her hand as they walked over to another table so they could play a wheel of fortune game. They spent another forty minutes in the casino, losing at every game they tried to play. Chandler pulled Monica aside and whispered to her that he knew of a sure bet that they simply could not lose if they went up to their room at that very moment. Monica smiled and arched a salacious eyebrow as she dragged him from the casino. Soon enough they would be in their bed, and even though they did not win any money, Atlantic City was proving to be the perfect place for their getaway.

* * *

As Monica stormed through the hotel, all she could think about, was how stupid Chandler was. She could not believe how he was behaving. Did he not understand how important it was for their first weekend away together to be perfect? So what if she needed the room to be just right. He didn't seem to complain when she made sure her hair, clothes, and nails were perfect. How her suitcase was perfectly packed. How the lingerie she had picked out for tonight was perfect. How she had brought a few tiny bottles of the same scotch she was drinking in London so that it would remind them of their first perfect night together. She wanted this weekend to be just as amazing as London was. She wanted to choreograph every detail to perfection, and he simply could not see it.

She walked around the casino to try and clear her head, but the noise and the crowds were getting on her nerves, so she decided to head over to the restaurant and settled up to the bar for a drink. As she sipped her cocktail, half of her wanted to go back upstairs and fight some more, the other half wanted to pack up and leave. That was when it dawned on her, that they were stuck here. Everyone thought they were away for the weekend, separately. If they showed up early together, it was bound to look suspicious.

Despite herself and her unsettled frustration with him, she figured she had to go back upstairs, check on Chandler and make sure they were on the same page. As she knocked back the rest of her drink, she let her mind snag on the hope that, maybe, in the short amount of time they were apart, Chandler had come to his senses. That he was ready to apologize. Maybe they could salvage the weekend.

When she reached the room, he was gone. The Television was turned on and blaring. The window was open, making the room an icebox. His bag was left on the bed, unzipped with clothes sticking out and thrown all over the place. Monica felt as if she was even angrier than before, and she did not think that was possible.

* * *

Chandler walked around the casino for a few hours. He was half-heartedly looking for Monica, but he was mostly looking for a distraction. He sat down at a blackjack table and mindlessly lost a hundred and fifty dollars while he sipped at a beer and let his mind replay everything that had gone wrong from the moment they walked into that first room.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not understand why she was so mad. Sure, maybe his joke was poorly timed, but she seemed incensed when he wanted to simply watch TV. Every time they had ever gone away anywhere, he always mindlessly turned the television on. It was a way to wind down after a long day or an exhausting trip. She should be used to it.

He finished his beer and decided to go back to the room. She had to be there by now, and he figured to make some kind of attempt to smooth this over, like he had done a few times already, when his mouth ran ahead of his mind. He wasn't sure what he would say, but he never does. He will just say what comes to mind and hope that it is charming enough to convince her to forgive him

When he got back and opened the door, he found a made-up cot in the middle of the room.

_"Not a good sign."_

Monica was wrapped up in the comforter on the bed. He tried to quietly rouse her by whispering her name, but she was unresponsive. He shook his head and sat down in a chair and grabbed the remote to turn on the television. He hit the button a few times, flipped the remote over, and saw the batteries had been taken out. Monica. Always thinking of everything. He settled quietly down onto the cot and pulled the scratchy blanket up to his chin.

_"This is going to be a long night."_

Chandler awoke as he felt his bag drop onto his chest. Monica was standing above him and she cleared her throat in an exaggerated manner to make sure he was up and get his attention.

"What's going on?"

"I packed your bag. I am going to get breakfast. I'll meet you at the desk to check-out at eleven."

With that, she spun around and made her way out of the room.

Chandler shook his head and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was only seven and it seemed she wanted to make sure he knew she was still mad at him. He sighed and lowered his head at the prospect of driving home for four hours with her in this mood. It had barely been twenty-four hours since they arrived here and yet that was enough time for him to wreck everything.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

* * *

A/N - This is the last new chapter for this story. I'll edit the next three and that will be it for this. I wanted to show that Chandler and Monica were still not on the same page as to where their relationship was. Chandler is cavalier and familiar with Monica, still treating her as his friend and not as his girlfriend. Monica obsesses over the room, which shows me just how wound up she became about having a perfect first weekend together. They were in different head-spaces, and stay there until they have that "adult relationship" moment together.

Thanks for indulging my additions to this. I really enjoyed writing this time in their relationship again and I am bouncing around the idea of doing a series of season five one shots similar to the pre-mondler story I have going on. They wouldn't be in chronological order, just snapshots from the secret relationship phase. I am not 100% sure it would fit in this story, or how much I have, but it will be canon. Let me know if that interests you, and if it would help to list when the chapter occurs by listing the episodes it would fit chronologically with.


	11. After Atlantic City - Chandler

**After A.C.- Chandler**

"_I guess that's it." _

Chandler looks into the bathroom mirror and allows himself a moment to brood. His shoulders slump while he supports his weight by leaning on the sink with both hands. He has been hiding out in the bathroom ever since Joey told him the hotel called about recovering an eyelash curler. Hiding from what he knows he has to do.

_"If anything, at the very least, I may have found the best hotel staff in the tri-state area, with all the room changing and then calling because of something as stupid as an eyelash curler! That is above and beyond." _

He shakes his head and glares at his reflection.

_"Stop stalling! Stop talking about hotel staffs and making jokes. You screwed up. You know this__ was inevitable. I was going to do something stupid. Why did she care that I was watching TV anyway? Why was I watching TV when I should have been having sex with her? How could we have had sex when we kept switching rooms?" _

Chandler smacks over a bar of soap from the sink.

"Ahh Dammit."

He looks back up at himself in the mirror. Studying his face for some obvious flaw he can blame instead of his own behavior.

"Y_ou just blew the best thing that you ever had." _

He pauses for a moment and realizes that he is being sincere when he says that.

_"Even if Mon and I stop sleeping together and this whole thing is over, that isn't the worst part. I might lose her completely." _

Although the fear of ruining one of his longest friendships by sleeping with Monica had subsided over the last few weeks, it all came back to him now.

_"I can't really imagine a world without Monica in my life." _

Chandler allows his mind to roll back the years, to a time when he and Monica were the only ones around to keep each other company, they were old acquaintances and new neighbors. Ross was married, there was no Joey or Rachel, Phoebe wasn't as close to them as she is now. In those early days it was just the two of them, there for each other. Two young people trying to figure out how to live in the city with only the other to rely on. They created a strong bond in those days. By the time Joey came into the picture, Monica was already the best friend he ever had.

He was an only child, his parents offered him little to no emotional support, he made very few friends in high school. It wasn't really until he met Ross that he felt he found someone he considered a true friend, and soon after, Ross was with Carol and Chandler was alone again; that was, until Monica came back into his life. She saved him before he even knew he needed to be saved. Once they became neighbors, she was the first person he would think of when he had news, or a problem, or if he just needed someone to drink a beer with. There were so many nights, when they had too much to drink, that they made sure they both got home safely and into their own beds.

They would tell each other secrets. They acted crazy together when no one else was around. She was the closest thing to a loved one he felt that he had; and although he would never say it out loud, as much as he loves his friendship with Joe now, it isn't the same. Monica would always just sort of accept the softer parts of himself that he shielded from everyone else. His insecurities, his love of show-tunes, his fear of confrontation. She never judged him for any of that.

"_I can't believe I risked all that for a few weeks of sex." _

He moves from the sink, no longer able to stomach his own reflection, and sits on the side of the bath tub. He looks down at its empty, concave shape. His memory goes back to that wonderful night, when he thought he missed out on seeing her, and instead there she was, glistening beautifully in a sea of bubbles. Sharing chicken, talking sweetly, and leaning in for warm, wet kisses.

_"As great as all that is, I can trade that in, if it means I can still see her every day." _

His mind inexplicably conjures up memories of his relationship with Kathy and he finds himself recalling the way he fell for her and how he felt about her. Sure, it was strong; strong enough that he risked his friendship with Joey. But now, he can't really say if it was love.

_"I am pretty sure, if Joey didn't give me his blessing, I never would have chased after her. I would have given her up for him. I'm sure of it." _

When he thinks of her now, there is nothing there. None of those old feelings bubbling at the surface. To be honest, he had not thought of her in a long time. He definitely doesn't miss her.

He doesn't know it yet, but it wasn't love. Not in the way he thinks. It was infatuation. She was someone he may have felt real love for given the chance, but it ended before that could happen. If he were a little more self-aware, he might realize that while he did mourn their break-up, he wasn't mourning that specific girl, he was really feeling this overwhelming fear he has of being alone. If he were more evolved emotionally, he would recognize that. Yet he can't. Not even now.

_"And who was there, when I was a mess, stuck in phase one? Monica."_

Chandler begins to think about all of his missteps and break-ups. All the women he had thought he loved. He did not miss any of them. Kathy, Aurora, even Janice. On again, off again Janice. Chandler let's out a quiet laugh.

_"Janice." _

He knows that he didn't really love her, at least not until she was married to someone else. If he was being honest with himself, he would realize, even then, he didn't love her, it was that fear of being alone. Enveloping his entire being.

_"And who was there for me, coaching me, keeping me company? Monica."_

Every memory he can dig up from the last seven years always drifts back to Monica at the end. When Mr. Heckles died, and Chandler was finally brave enough to put voice to his great fear of being alone. Who was there for him?

_"Monica."_

He stands back up and recalls what he told a complete stranger just a few short weeks ago.

_"Out of all the women I've ever known, she was always the best one." _

He honestly meant it then and he means it now. He wasn't even thinking romantically, just as a person in his life. Monica was the best, and now, with the end of whatever it is they were doing at hand, all he can think about is her, and their friendship, and how hard it would be to live without it. For the first time in his life, he isn't masking his grief over the loss of yet another failed romantic relationship or fending off his fears of dying alone. He is actually mourning the loss of a person. The most important person.

_"I can't lose her."_

Every time she was there to help him flashes through his mind like images on a movie screen. All those times they would be together, laughing, smiling, sharing knowing glances; it was as if they have been speaking their own language for years. His mind races as he ponders what he may lose. That platonic closeness they share, would it all be lost to him forever? All those times they would plop down in a big chair, huddled together to watch TV or to share a snack; all those fun times gone because they had sex? He screwed up and now is all of that over? Would they ever be able to go back to how things were? Would she want to?

He knows he had to talk to her. He knows he had to do it now before the resentment and anger was too much for her to bear and eventually overcome her feelings of friendship for him. Chandler looks in the mirror one more time to work up bravery that he had never possessed. The idea that he is willing to walk directly into conflict, something he avoids at all cost, to salvage something, anything with Monica scares him a little. Any other woman, he would resign himself to throw on some sweatpants and sleep for a few days until the smoke cleared and they were gone from his life forever.

He knows he cannot do that this time. Not with Monica. He can not imagine a morning where he wasn't at her table, talking and stalling the workday, enjoying her company, teasing her in a way only he could and only she could appreciate.

"_I can't believe TV did all of this. __How could the same thing that gives me Baywatch also do this?" _

He recalls what that nurse had said to him when he was at the hospital enduring his first screw up.

_"Salvage what you can." _

He looks in the mirror again and confirms his resolve to go over to Monica's apartment and say something, anything to protect their friendship.

He brushes his hair with his fingers, takes a few deep breaths, and finally, makes his way out of his apartment and across the hall. He stops for a moment at her door, resting his head against it. He takes one more deep breath before walking slowly inside. He looks to see Monica sitting on the couch. She turns slightly to face him. His mouth begins to move.

"Hey…"


	12. After Atlantic City - Monica

**After A.C. - Monica**

"_He is so infuriating!" _

Monica fumes as she silently sits on her couch while mindlessly flipping through a pamphlet of Mad Libs. Outwardly, she appears calm and peaceful, but inside, she is still twisted up in knots at how infuriating Chandler had been while they were in Atlantic City.

_"If he would just stop and think for a minute he would see I'm right! I'm always right!" _

For the firs time, she lets her guard down and exhales out a frustrated huff.

_"I won't even go in his room if the bed isn't made, how he can expect me to be comfortable in a dirty hotel room is beyond me. Sure, maybe by the seventh or eighth room I was getting a little picky, but I wanted it to be perfect for our first weekend getaway together." _

Monica hesitates for a moment and looks up at the ceiling. Her eyes widen as if she is recognizing something or someone.

_"Wow, I think this is the first time since we got together that I did that. That I was that critical of where we were staying before we were together. We have been so lucky to just find some time alone lately that I never even thought about stuff like that."_

She sits back and sighs again. Recalling memories of every time she and Chandler have been together since London. She tries to come up with some example where her neurotic behavior took the forefront, but cannot remember obsessing over everything being perfect, like she normally does with other men. Sure, she made him buy clean sheets and some new pillows for his bedroom. And maybe she told him his dirty clothes needed to be in the hamper when she comes over and not all over the floor; but she never found herself distracted enough by anything being out of place that she couldn't just be with Chandler in the moment.

_"Okay, maybe I brought over some old coasters I had lying around for his nightstand; and maybe on my day off I dusted his curtains and vacuumed his rug while he was at work, but that's just good sense."_

She can't even remember ever finding herself instinctively rearranging everything like she had done before, whenever one of her past boyfriends would come to the apartment.

_"Boyfriend." _

She still can't believe she is saying that, even if only to herself. Chandler Bing is her boyfriend. She shakes her head to try and ignore how odd that would sound out loud in front of everyone they know. It still surprises her. Nevertheless, it is true, he is her boyfriend, and unlike with the other men she had dated, she did not obsess. Her mind never raced through all the ways she needed to ensure the apartment was just right before he came over. She never found herself focused on clutter or distracted by an open dresser drawer. With Chandler, when they get together, there is just passion and then that sweet intimate closeness as they lay together in the afterglow. There is no worrying, no distractions; it is just them, alone, living in this secret little world.

Not that there wasn't passion with the other men in her life. Monica prides herself on being very comfortable with her sexuality. She knows what she likes and what she wants. She loves sex. But with Chandler, it has been different.

She starts to think about her past lovers, and her mind immediately goes to Richard. They had passion, but, even with him, who she truly loved, she still snuck around to fix things behind his back. When he did catch her, to his credit, he tried to make her feel better. Although, as that relationship falls further into the shadows of the past, she realizes he was just being nice to his girlfriend. He didn't really have a "thing". Even when he let her reorganize his desk, it was more of a courtesy. It was sweet, and it meant he loved her, but that nagging feeling that something was out of place was ever-present. Even during the best times of their relationship, she always felt she needed to impress him. To prove she was the best he would ever find. She felt that pressure, even if she was the only one applying it.

She has never once felt that way with Chandler before their trip. She never felt that burden of perfection. Maybe because he knows all these things about her already. He has seen her at her worst and, despite that, he has always made her feel like she is the best. Even when teasing her, it never felt like judgment. It was more an inside joke that the two of them shared. In some way, knowing that puts Monica at ease when they are together. It subsides that gnawing need to make everything just right.

Obviously, that instinct to be the best, to be perfect is still there. Monica can never escape the drive. It does still rear its ugly head; but it isn't pervasive over everything they do. Like some specter haunting them.

She starts to smile, thinking of the handful of times he would show up unannounced at her job. He would say that he was just there so that they could walk home together and have a few private moments. She would feel dirty; wearing an entire day's shift of dried food on her pants. Her hair wouldn't have the same bounce it would have if she had spent time on it. Her clothes were drab, and her fingers still smelled of garlic. She would never let a man she was dating ever see her like that this early into the relationship; but this wasn't any other man, this was Chandler. With a smile so wide and a twinkle in his eye. Looking for a kiss and a hand to hold, telling her how beautiful she was, and meaning it. All those self-conscious thoughts about how she looked were miles away. She was just there, in that moment. She didn't need to be perfect for him.

"_Wait, I'm supposed to be mad at him!" _

Monica attempts to shake off the warm feeling that overcame her as she tries to wipe the sweet image of Chandler from her mind. She needs to recapture her ire. She needs to stay mad at him so that when he finally comes over to apologize, she doesn't let him off too easily. She thinks back to when she first realized that Chandler would be her neighbor, and how she really wasn't pleased about that. She already knew him a little bit and he was obnoxious, aloof, sarcastic, and rude. However, something must have changed in him, because although he was still immature, he was very friendly and kind.

_"Maybe Ross asked him to keep an eye on me."_

Soon after, they were a permanent fixture in each other's lives. They became so close, so fast, that they swapped keys and would come and go as they pleased into the other's apartment. Chandler would always keep her company, either out at the bar or just a night in watching T.V. They would talk and laugh and share parts of themselves that no one else was privy to.

Without warning, Monica starts to jump through all of the years they have been friends. She remembers all the times he would support her when her career was sputtering. How he would always be close by if she needed to talk about a bad date or a break-up. How he would do little, sweet things to help her out. Like when Phoebe moved out and money was tight, she discovered Chandler stealing her electric bill in an attempt to cover the cost. He would always seem to buy an extra loaf of bread, or just happened to have accidentally bought her brand of orange juice. He would try to play it off as if she was doing him a favor for taking it off his hands, but she knew what he was doing. He was helping her out without letting her feel like a charity case. She loved him for that.

"_Get it together Geller. This guy can also be a jerk"_

Monica refocuses her efforts to bring up memories where Chandler was just exhausting, but every time she thinks of one, a sweeter memory obscures it. That time he stole her muffin at the coffee house melts away into that time they were huddled together, thinking about summer. He was so insufferable when the boys had won her apartment, but then the image of him snuggled on the couch sleeping over to avoid his crazy roommate dominates her reverie.

She starts to go over the last month or so since they returned from London again. Trying to see if there was some moment that she could focus on where the old, caustic Chandler was visible underneath the sweet man she had been dating.

_"He's been wonderful. Better than I could ever have imagined. At least until Atlantic City. Maybe we tried for a weekend getaway too soon, maybe it put too much pressure on us. Maybe, all this sneaking around…" _

Suddenly, Monica hears the door to her apartment open, breaking her from her reverie. She looks up to see Chandler with a forlorn expression on his face. She wants to comfort him, but she also wants him to know how much his behavior hurt her. Before she can think of something to say, he speaks softly.

"Hey."

Monica sits forward, her eyes still watching him as he approaches her. Her anger from before already gone, and softly speaks, "Hi."


	13. Epilogue - Relationship Status Loading

**A/N**

So, you may have gotten an alert that this is a new chapter. It isn't. Chapter one, two, three, seven and ten are brand new. Ten was uploaded today!

Basically, I broke fanfiction by adding chapters to the beginning of this story and then moving other chapters around. Chaos!

Anyway, if you are looking for new content, just hit that drop down menu and check out the new chapters.

Thanks.

We now return to our originally scheduled programming.

* * *

**Epilogue - Relationship Status Loading**

It is a late Saturday afternoon and Chandler finds himself sitting in his Barcalounger alone, waiting. Something he is not very good at doing. He knows Monica should be there soon, but he is nervous with excitement and can't remain seated for too long. He gets antsy and distracted when he has to wait like this. He sways himself back-and-forth in his chair and gets up to pace every few minutes. He takes off and then puts back on a grey sweater vest, unconvinced about which way looks better.

Once Joey left for his audition, Chandler began cleaning the apartment. He made his bed, cleared off the coffee table, straightened up the couch, and washed the dishes. After his shower, he moved the chick and duck into the bathroom, knowing how Monica feels about them, so they would be out of the way. Once he was all done getting everything ready, waiting was all that remained.

He normally did not clean the apartment before Monica came over for fear that it might look suspicious; but now that Joey knows they are seeing each other, he no longer worries about acting out of character or being caught getting ready for a date. He also figures that after an afternoon with her mother, the last thing Monica would want is to come over to an unkempt space, so he put in some extra effort.

Ever since Monica put a label on what they were, and confirmed that they were not goofing around, but were actually in a relationship, he has felt a stronger desire to do everything right. To make everything perfect for her. He is genuinely surprised by the fact that he has this overwhelming need to impress her. She is no longer Monica, his friend who lives across the hall that he gets to have sex with. She is now Monica, his girlfriend. Even if he still does not have the courage to say it out loud, he knows it is true. He thinks about this as he bites his thumbnail and waits.

It is very quiet now. There is barely a noise save for the occasional onomatopoeia from the duck emanating out of the bathroom. Usually, this is the perfect backdrop for Chandler to get lost in his thoughts, which would be consumed by self-critical doubt. Yet today, all of his thoughts are of Monica. Her face. Her smell. Her skin. Her smile. He has no time for self-destructive behaviors. Not when she could be here any minute. He listens closely to see if he can hear footsteps coming up the stairs or through the hallway in hopes that she is finally back home.

Monica went to lunch with her mother. Once the fall season comes to New York, Judy Geller makes her way into the city more frequently to beat the holiday shopping crowd. Whenever she is in town, she will call one of her children to meet up, and today, it was Monica's turn. Chandler knows how Monica can get after a prolonged visit with her mother so he is prepared to take time and listen to her vent about whatever new criticism she had to endure. He is ready to be whatever she needs him to be. He is ready to be her boyfriend.

* * *

Monica walks into her apartment building, leans against the entrance door and lets out a long and therapeutic exhale. She begins to stretch out her fingers, trying to exorcise the last few hours from her being. As hard as she tries all she can hear is her mother voice ringing through her skull.

_"You shouldn't wear your hair like that, it covers your face. Don't put your hair up dear, your ears are too big for that. That color isn't very flattering on you. Don't you think that skirt is a little too form fitting?"_

Monica finally lets out a loud "Ugh!" and wipes a tear from her eye. The criticism wouldn't be so bad if it weren't combined with praise for Ross.

_"Why am I never enough for that woman!" _

She begins to walk up the stairs; still feeling claustrophobic from the weight of her mother's judgmental eye. She stops on each landing to take deep breaths. She doesn't want to bring this feeling of resentment with her into Chandler's apartment, but no matter what she does, she can't shake it. Mercifully, she finally reaches her floor and walks over to the door of apartment 19. She takes one more deep breath and enters.

Chandler stands up immediately upon seeing her. Monica closes the door behind her and leans on it, ready to exhale so loudly she might explode. All of Chandler's anxious energy as he waited for her quickly subsides.

"Monica. Wow. You look gorgeous."

"Really?" Monica smiles bashfully and starts to walk towards him. Thoughts of her mother's criticism instantly vanishes from her mind.

"Are you kidding me?" Chandler starts to gesture towards her with his hand. "That skirt, and that top, those little curls of your hair. Monica, you're a work of art."

Monica runs towards Chandler and embraces him with all of her being, forcing him back into his chair and she lands on his lap and starts to kiss him passionately.

"You don't know how much I needed this."

Chandler pulls back for a moment.

"This is good right?"

Monica nods. "This is good. This is really good."

They smile and stare into each other's eyes for a moment before losing themselves in each other as their lips crash and they share a series of long, passionate kisses.

* * *

A/N – Well, that is the end of the second part of this series I am working on. I want to thank everyone who read all of this and anyone who took the time to review or drop me a note. I don't think I am quite done with this pair, or with season 5, so we will see where we go.

I may slow down a little bit as I try to figure out where to go from here. I also want to take time to read what other's have written and do my part to support all the other contributors to this website.

I have plenty of ideas for every season and even some for after the show ends, and I am torn between saving my notes and going chronologically with just a long series of stories or starting different stories and adding to them as I come up with ideas out of order. I am pretty much going to stick to canon, but never say never.

If anyone has any suggestions on how I can make these stories or chapters more enjoyable or even just easier to read, please feel free to drop me a line. If there is any fanfic protocol I should follow that I am not, I would love to hear that too.

Thanks again!


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